Don't Be Afraid
by WanderingWoodskeep
Summary: The woman who tried to keep it secret, the chieftain who wages war with devils, and the magic that swirls in the air. It takes one boy and one dragon, bonded to enact punishment only for a friendship to bloom, to end the war that has plagued generations. Of course, it's all easier said than done. This is the story of a Soulbond between a Rider and a Night Fury, and how it formed.
1. Prologue: A Bedtime Story

**Prologue: A Bedtime Story**

The wooden door creaked open, the little boy behind the action wincing at the volume as he crept into the room. His father was out helping the village rebuild after the most recent raid, and he had been left with the blacksmith to help repair any weapons. What his father hadn't expected was the number of repairs was small, or for the blacksmith to send him home.

"Take th'day off." He told his apprentice, patting him on the shoulder with his prosthetic hand. "I can man the forge; you make sure that the twins don't break somethin' else."

Of course, the twins were their own storm of chaos, and the boy alone was certainly not enough to contain or restrain their actions, especially since he would wind up being the target of their misfortune. So, instead, he went back home, taking in the empty house with a sense of relief. Silence was better than the cajoling laughter that the twins were infamous for.

Still, the lack of the crackling flame of a log burning put him off, and he set to work, lugging a log over and stirring the hearth into action. Once that was done, he headed upstairs, intent on heading to his room and cleaning it up, taking stock of anything that had been caught in the crossfire.

But he paused, stopping at the top of the stairs. On his left was his room, covered in crude sketches of fantastical weapons, scribbles of various parts of the city, and a cartoon of his father fighting a Deadly Nadder. On his right was his father's room, only occupied in the very late hours when the boy was fast asleep, and almost always empty.

…His dad wasn't coming home anytime soon, probably wouldn't be back until dusk at the earliest. He would never know, right?

Which lead to now. His father's room was as barren as he expected it to be. Disturbed sheets, an axe held up on the wall, a singular window looking out over the town, to the right of the bed. There was a large chest nearby, more than likely containing his father's clothes. The six-year-old shrugged, a plain room with little personal belongings seemed to fit his father. He turned to leave the room, ready to grab his book and draw more.

The smoke clouds outside parted, if only briefly, and sunlight filtered in, glinting on something in the corner of the room. The boy stopped, his eyes landing on a much smaller chest, hidden under a dust-covered blanket, the lock poking out and caught in the sun's brief glimpse of the Earth. Curiosity piqued, the boy hurried over and lifted the blanket, opening the chest.

At the very top was the chest piece for a maiden. The boy brushed it to the side, not uncaringly, but because his interest was captivated by what was underneath. There was some more clothing—smaller than his father's but just as thick—but also piles upon piles of books. Excitement thrummed through his body, and he snagged the top book. Books, while not rare, were hard to come by as most of the village detested keeping a suitable library, and only treasured few, valuable tomes which were kept under lock and key. Besides, whenever he got anything resembling a book, the twins and Snotlout went above and beyond to steal them from him.

It was a small treasure chest, really, and the boy was overjoyed. Despite this, he understood the dangers of snooping in his father's room, so he closed the chest and placed the blanket over it, carefully tugging the corners and smoothing the fabric in order to look like it had never been disturbed. Running to his room, he jumped onto his bed, holding the book close to his chest in a hug. He opened it up to the first page and smiled, ready to learn.

His excitement crashed not soon after. Instead of familiar runes, a frantic scribbling covered the pages, some crisscrossing over prior lines. Each one was undefinable from the last, maybe a higher spike here, a dip there, but it was unintelligible. The boy frowned and turned the book this way and that, squinting and closing one eye, then the other, before finally admitting defeat, unable to see a hidden picture or message.

The front door slammed open, the heavy footsteps of the chief echoing through the house. He jumped and, frantic, the boy shoved the book under his pillow. Not a moment later, Stoick the Vast shoved through his door, a flash of concern buried under cold indifference once his eyes landed on the boy. "There you are. Once Gobber saw the twins rampaging, he got concerned over where you'd gone. C'mon Hiccup, we might as well put you in the forge, if only to calm him."

Hiccup nodded and followed a few paces behind. Before leaving, he looked back at his bed and frowned at his pillow. Only when his father shouted for him at the bottom of the stairs did he close the door and obediently follow behind him with his head down, mind filled with scribbles and confusion.

* * *

 **AN:** I've wanted to do this story for a while and, while it may be left incomplete given my track record of things I've written (in which case, I am incredibly sorry), this is the one fandom I've been able to consistently return to and enjoy. Basically, even if I take a long break, I'll be certain to return here at one point or another and finish this thing off.

But yes! This is an AU of the first movie. What will it entail? Well, I'm not one for spoilers, but anyone who's curious enough to take a guess may leave a nice review and, _maybe_ I'll give a straight answer. Probably in private, but if it does entail an important plot point that needs discussion/clarification/etc I'll include it in the opening of the next chapter. In every other case, author notes will be at the end of the story, so don't worry about the flow being interrupted.

As for frequency of updates... I guess weekly? Every two weeks sounds more plausible, since I'm dealing with a hell of a lot of work from school and my own personal problems (hahaha procrastination and holiday depression WHOOPS) and I have the first chapter already written up and slowly working through the second one. Plus, I can't write a whole lot out of my laptop as the script and movie are needed and my phone can't download the movie and allow me to read the script _s_ _o_ it's slow work.

Anyways, RAMBLING OVER! Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 1: Fleeting Dreams

**Chapter 1: Fleeting Dreams**

 _This journal was created in the hopes that an answer would come from the confusion and torment that has plagued my life, and my forefathers before me. The answer has been lost to paper, but I will do my best to gain knowledge of what has plagued my bloodline for the past centuries. While it has not been a problem for me, as my grandmother, bless her soul, taught me how to hide it from the villagers. She passed before she could tell me of the origins. My father never showed signs of this affecting him, nor did my mother, but in the face of a pregnancy (which I look forward to with a mix of anticipation and fear), I wish for my child to live in a safe and war-free tribe with dragons._

 _I do not fear the beasts that pillage us. I cannot find it within myself for reasons that I refuse to write in this language, as a snooping Viking could easily discover my secrets. For anyone reading my collected thoughts, know this: I refuse to rest until I find a peaceful outcome, either to the war, or to ensure my son the safest route in his life._

* * *

A screech ripped through the night sky, stars blinking in and out of existence as the dragon— _Night Fury_ , the deadliest dragon known to man, a _Night Fury_ —fell from the sky. A low boom accompanied its crash, along with the snap of trees and their many branches as they were crushed under the weight and force of the mighty dragon's crash.

He'd done it. Hiccup the Useless, Hiccup the Stupid, Hiccup the Mistake, had shot down a Night Fury, something that no Viking had ever done. He almost wanted to dance, do a jig as he felt elation rush through his body. He'd done something correctly for once. Its head alone would bring him fame and recognition, maybe a girl or two, and who knows what the other parts of its body would bring him. "Yes, yes I hit it! Oh, man, did anyone see that?"

A rumble behind him caught his attention, and he turned to see the wicked horned head of a Monstrous Nightmare. His bola launcher was crushed underneath its chest, nothing but scrap metal and wood chips now, and he was unarmed except for the small knife he kept in his vest pocket for emergencies.

In other words, he was defenseless, couldn't harm it, and only had one other option that would be less than fortunate for anyone involved. Whatever elation he had was squandered in a moment's notice, and his visibly deflated, making a small sarcastic quip to hide his fear. "Except for you…"

The Monstrous Nightmare easily lit itself aflame and roared, and Hiccup let out a matching scream as he turned tail and ran into the village. Anything the beast of a dragon touched instantly burst into flames, and its hulking, thick-scaled body shattered the delicate wood frames of the villager's homes. As if Thor was looking down on him, Hiccup tripped over a stray piece of debris, falling flat on his back as the dragon took the perfect opportunity to pounce, fangs dripping with the heated, flammable saliva it was famous for.

A blur tackled the dragon from the right, Stoick the Vast rearing back and slamming his fist into its face over and over, aiming for the vulnerable and delicate eyes before moving down the snout. An audible snap made the dragon rear back, and Hiccup could see that its nose was off center. Vikings surrounded the beast, throwing bola upon bola over it and pinning it to the ground, dragging it away. He panted, slightly winded from the adrenaline rush and personal fight with the Nightmare, but his glare was centered on his son. Hiccup looked down, ashamed, and shuffled his feet, trying to ignore the several stares centered on the two of them. "Sorry, dad."

Stoick growled, his frame tense as more Vikings gathered. Hiccup's screw ups were common and, most of the time, were done in private at the Haddock household (though it wasn't to say that they didn't, at one point or another, become publicized, or the screw-ups were done in the town center for all to see). Stoick's anger and, at points, fury, was unmatched by the other Vikings, and whenever a public lecture occurred, it was a sight to behold. The other teens snickered at the front of the crowd, the only two watching in silent neutrality were Astrid and Fishlegs.

Hiccup could feel ants crawling up his back, and he puffed out his cheeks before saying his next sentence with a quick rush of breath. "Okay, but I hit a Night Fury." The Vikings around them groaned, some cursing at Hiccup, others retreating to see if their beds were salvageable for a quick nap before the dawn sun transitioned into morning. Stoick snarled and grabbed Hiccup by the scruff of his vest, carrying him away from the crowd. Hiccup twisted out of his grip, mouth moving before his feet hit the ground. "It's not like the last few times, Dad. I mean I really _actually_ hit it. You guys were busy and I had a very clear shot. It went down, just off Raven Point. Let's get a search party out there, before it—"

" _Stop!_ " Hiccup went silent as Stoick rounded on him, the early dawn light casting shadows over the smoke-filled village. "Just… stop."

"Dad, I—"

"Every time you step outside," Stoick continued, as if Hiccup hadn't spoken. "disaster follows. Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter's almost here and I have an entire village to feed!"

Hiccup glanced at the surrounding crowd, self-consciously rubbing at his arm. "Between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't ya think?"

"This isn't a _joke,_ Hiccup!" The taller Viking threw up his arms and heaved a sigh, wrinkles appearing under his eyes. "Why can't you follow the simplest directions?"

"I can't stop myself. I see a dragon and I have to just…" Hiccup bent over and mimed snapping someone's neck, the action feeling fake even to him. "kill it, you know? It's who I am, Dad."

"You are _many_ things, Hiccup. But a dragon killer is not one of them. Get back to the house." Murmurs of agreement, either towards Stoick's comment or for Hiccup to leave, rose from the crowd. Gobber was just a few paces behind, hobbling towards the father and son. "Make sure he gets there. I have his mess to clean up."

They walked, Hiccup with his head down and ignoring the world around him as they passed the group of teens. The twins, Tuffnut and Ruffnut, were openly laughing, with their head-honcho Snotlout snickering besides them. Astrid and Fishlegs kept up their neutral positions, though the latter appeared much more ashamed. Once upon a time, they'd been friends, mainly when they were very young. Then the bullying began and, looking to save himself, Fishlegs sided with them and joined in on the taunts aimed at Hiccup. Of course, he hung back, refusing to take up violence, but the act of not doing anything was still poignant, and still secured a secure position for himself.

"Quite the performance." Tuffnut murmured, Snotlout walking up and smacking Hiccup on the shoulder with a leer.

"I've never seen anyone mess up that badly. That helped!"

Hiccup scowled, tentatively meeting Astrid's glare. "Thank you, thank you. I was trying so…" The shield maiden huffed, turned up her nose and walked away, and Hiccup let out a sigh.

A thousand dragon heads couldn't have given him a chance.

* * *

"I really did hit one."

"Sure, Hiccup."

"He never listens."

"Well, it runs in the family."

"And when he does, it's always with this... disappointed scowl. Like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich." Hiccup turned on his front porch, lifting up his arms and pushing out his chest as he imitated his father's thick accent. "Excuse me, barmaid. I'm afraid ye've brough' me tha wrong offspring. I ordered an _extra-large_ boy with _beefy_ arms, extra guts 'nd glory on the side. This here—this is a talkin' fish bone!"

"You're thinking about this all wrong." Gobber attempted to reconcile. "It's not so much what you _look_ like. It's what's _inside_ that he can't stand."

Hiccup could feel a headache coming on. "Thank you for… summing that up."

"Look, the point is, stop trying so hard to be something you're not." Gobber finished.

"I just want to be one of you guys." Hiccup sighed and pushed the door open, closing in with a final slam, the teen sliding to the floor as frustration welled up inside him. Of course, no one believed him. Not good old Useless, who preferred working in a forge than working on his throwing arm and aim. No one ever believed him.

Forcing back the tears that had gathered in his eyes, Hiccup fled to his room and sat at his desk. Pulling open his drawer, he took out his leather-bound journal and a charcoal pencil. It had cost him an arm and a leg (and his tongue, he'd never barter with Trader Johann again) to get it for cheap, but it was well worth it. It acted as a design book, a diary on rare occasions, or a drawing journal where he, well, drew.

Still, there was something else he needed. Reaching further into the drawer, he fiddled with the false back and brought out a second journal, the pages and cover worn to time, but the rune of protection was still legible on its cover, the weld holding true to the leather.

His mother's journal had always brought him a sense of comfort, whether it was because of the sentimental value of having it or something that was _from_ his mother, and not someone's stories _about_ her. Only the last few pages were untouched, all the others were covered in scribbles, neat handwriting, or drawings, similar to his own. It chronicled around two years, containing the nine months his mother was pregnant up to the day before she was taken.

Most of what was legible was incredibly domestic, with his mother describing what her 'darling little Hiccup' had done that day that was so endearing, and certainly not interesting, but it was the mystery of what he couldn't read that kept him interested. For the past few years, he'd been doing his best to try and translate what the scribbling was on numerous pages. For all his effort, however, he'd only managed to translate three words, as there wasn't a clear syntax or easy way for him to investigate what his mother had written. The three words were easy to pick out, mainly because they appeared as runes throughout the journal, and the context clues helped him greatly.

 _Hiccup_ , _Stoick_ , and _Dragons_. That was it, and even then, it didn't give him every letter, and it certainly didn't help, because almost all of the scribbles looked the same as the last, and it was hard to pick out one word from another.

Regardless, that wasn't what he needed. Hiccup flipped to the back-cover and opened his own journal as well, copying the small-scale map of the island that his mother had sketched with dedication and care. He added a few extra tidbits, such as arrows pointing towards the most likely location where the Night Fury had crashed, as well as a time that he needed to be back by.

Then again, he doubted anyone would notice.

He stomped his way downstairs, delighting in the sound of creaks and groans from the worn wood. The Haddock house had stood the test of time, only needing a new roof or front door every once in a while, and never a full demolition and rebuild. Sliding his notebook into his vest's inner pocket, he went into the kitchen. Digging through the drawers, he found the grinder stone and ran it over his pocket knife, sharpening it just in case. Hiccup nodded, satisfied with his selection of items, and set off through the back door, the woods swallowing him in seconds.

* * *

 **AN:** HOO BOY this one's short. It's nothing compared to the next chapter, which is more than twice as long (not counting my little notes). I'm pushing myself to make the chapters decently long, at least over a thousand, which is what I didn't do for the prologue. I know it says 1k+ in the summary, but that's because it's including the note. It's actually about 800 words.

For those of you who were expecting me to write out the raid, I thought that it wouldn't work with how I write. Besides, it's been written out so many times that you aren't going to miss much. What did matter most in that scene was that Toothless was shot down and Hiccup's relationship with the rest of the village was established. I couldn't put in a lot of my own AU's elements into this chapter (damn you establishing tone, _damn you...!_ ), but don't worry! At the very least, _one_ element will be introduced in chapter 2, so you have something to look forward to.


	3. Chapter 2: Severed Hopes

**Chapter 2: Severed Hopes**

 _(Excerpt translated by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III)_

 _Anxiety plagues my thoughts tonight. I believe it is the fault of my pregnancy, keeping me awake with worries of my bab's future. I turn to my journal tonight in an attempt to soothe myself, but also to write about my current disposition with Stoick the Vast, the man I'm devotedly married to._

 _Our marriage was not simply a fit of passion from a pair of budding, hormonal teenagers. We did, and continue to genuinely love each other, and I know that he cares for me with all his heart. But if he were to know of the legacy of my bloodline, and what happened to others like myself, then I don't doubt for a second he would hate me with all of his might._

 _In that extent, our marriage acts almost like a power play. If I were to make claims of peace with dragon kind, proposing such 'traitorous ideals' would result in my banishment, and the Outcasts would treat me with as much respect as the Hairy Hooligans. However, being married to the chieftain gives me the ability to show peaceful actions and not whisper such things in fear of Stoick's anger, and I could attempt to propose more peaceful actions directly, and simply dismiss it later as curious wondering in order to extend an olive branch, so to speak._

 _This is not to say that I don't love Stoick. If I didn't, I would have refused to give him an heir. I truly do love him, but I fear that one day the truth will come out, either by accident or my own foolish trust, and banishment would be a dream compared to what he would do to me._

* * *

Two hours.

The sun had risen, an overcast sky greeting Hiccup and threatening a good storm. Birds chirped overhead and, occasionally, a small animal would flit across his path. Hiccup's stomach growled, mimicking the grunt of frustration that left his lips after scribbling out the map. Beneath the frustrated markings were various 'X's, practically covering the entire sketch of the woods.

Two hours, and he hadn't found a single shred of evidence that the Night Fury had even existed.

"The Gods hate me." He lamented, ignoring the desire to throw his journal into the woods out of frustration. Instead, it went back into his pocket with a less-than-satisfying plop. "Some people lose their knife or their mug, but no, not _me_ , I manage to lose an _entire dragon._ "

Glowering, Hiccup swatted a low-hanging branch, only for it to snap back into his face. Hissing, he held his check, feeling the blood well under his palm as he glared at the branch—

The branch that was hanging because the tree was split, most of it downed and touching against the forest floor. A trail of torn up earth was besides it, the moss ripped to shreds and exposing tree roots, with flecks of dark blood on the ground.

Hiccup's breath caught in his throat as he carefully ventured down the hill, his knife weighing heavy on his belt. At the dip in the hill, he saw that black scales littered the ground. Clambering up the small rise, he looked up and gasped, his fingers digging into the soft earth.

In the center of a small clearing, moss-coated boulders of varying sizes and shapes crowding it, laid the Night Fury. It was silent and eerily still, one wing propped up in the air from its tied position, but it didn't twitch or grumble or try to shimmy its body out of its bonds. The bola had done its job well, ropes taut as it contained the deadly beast, even through the rough crash.

The knife was hastily drawn and fumbled into his hands, Hiccup nearly nicking his fingers on the blade. It wasn't an axe, wasn't a sword, but it would do well to get at least one good slash in case of self-defense. It wouldn't make a difference if the dragon broke free, but it made him feel slightly safer as each step felt like a death sentence. His instincts screamed at him to run, take cover, or hide.

Instead, he drew closer, hugging the boulders just in case, but for the most part progressing. The Night Fury—Gods above, the name still sent shivers up his spine—was pitch black, with four stubby legs. Its two wings were on its back, and were sleek, no spikes of any kind decorating its spine or the joints. Its tail was long and tapered off to a point. Its head was flat and wide, with little appendages coming off the sides, like ears.

It was dark, powerful, deadly, but it was certainly dead.

"I did it?" Hiccup whispered, coming out from behind the boulder he had taken refuge behind. "I-I did it! Oh, yes, this fixes everything!" With slight theatrics, Hiccup raised one of his legs and put it atop the dragon's front paw, striking a pose. "I have brought down this mighty beast—"

A low grumble rose from the Night Fury's chest, its paw twitching and throwing off Hiccup's foot. With a barely suppressed scream, the boy back pedaled and pressed himself flat against the closest boulder. With his dagger in a shaky grasp, he pointed the tip of the blade towards the Night Fury and approached, his body high on adrenaline and tense, ready to run the moment it struck at him with one of its infamous explosive shots. His eyes raked over the dragon once more, attempting to find a weak chink in its armor, or an exposed wound he could kick if it did suddenly break free and try to attack him. With a scowl, he discovered nothing, and his gaze moved upwards, towards its head.

A lone, toxic green eye met his, the pupil slit as its breathing heavy pants as its nostrils flared.

Hiccup didn't know if he'd ever seen something more beautifully terrifying in his life.

Swallowing in order to banish the lump in his throat, he breathed deeply and attempted to embolden himself, trying to summon the same amount of hate his father spat at them. His grip shifted, and the knife was held so that the blade was pointed at the ground, so that he could thrust down and pierce its chest. "I'm going to kill you, _dragon._ I'm gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father. I'm a Viking." He looked down at its eye, something tugging at his heart, and he shouted, "I am a _Viking!_ "

The Night Fury moaned, its breathing labored, and Hiccup closed his eyes. This… this would be his first kill. The most blood he'd seen before would be when he nicked his hand on a recently sharpened sword, and the cut had to be thickly bandaged on his non dominant hand. It had left a scar, but it was the blood that had paralyzed him, refrained him from shouting out, and this was just going to be worse, wasn't it? What color was dragon's blood? He was stabbing it through the heart, right? Or was the heart supposed to be in a different area of its body?

He drew the knife up, over his head, and against his wishes, he opened his eyes again and met the dragon's toxic gaze. He saw its eye widen, taking in the scrawny boy that had downed it, and was preparing to kill it. His grip slackened, but the dragon's eye never left his own, and he shook his head, clearing it of his traitorous thoughts.

Another whine drew his attention away from the task at hand, and Hiccup looked down to see that the Night Fury had closed its eyes and laid its head back against the soil, showing its neck. The action was profound, and Hiccup was reminded of the story his father had told him, when they found a Berserker spy amongst their travelers and were executing him, before his time.

"He'd known what he'd done. He also knew he wasn't gettin' out of it." His father had explained coldly as he poked the log in the fireplace, a half-eaten fish in his other hand. "At the execution, he tilted his head back. His last words were 'make it quick, for the love of Thor.'"

Closing his eyes, Hiccup hefted the knife and dismissed the thoughts. Dragons did not know of mercy, did not know how to beg or to plead. They fought, they stole, they killed. They were mindless. What he was seeing was deceit, plain and simple.

The dragon could not be asking for a quick death. The dragon could not be acting so human like so naturally. It was an animal, probably just mimicking some action it saw in an attempt to convince him to put his guard down, or to leave it be to escape and run back to its hoard.

But why did his heart ache?

 _Gods, why?_

He stood for a while more, stuck in the same position, knife feeling heavier and heavier in his grasp, before collapsing, his hands falling atop his head with the knife still in hand, accepting defeat. His breath came out in huffs, matching the tempo of the dragon's labored breathing. His mind was already making logical conclusions for his actions: he wasn't strong enough to cut out the heart or other body parts, no one would believe that he'd done it and that he was just taking the glory for himself, it wouldn't make a difference regardless, he'd still be 'Hiccup the Useless' in everyone's eyes.

But the true reason stuck thick in his heart. He looked in that dragon's eye, and he saw something _human._ Something intelligent, something with morals and emotions and intelligence and independent thoughts.

And he couldn't do it.

He couldn't kill the dragon.

That feeling in his heart came back, and he could properly name it now: _pity._

He felt pity for a dragon.

He almost wanted to laugh. What would his father say if he could see him now? Would he scorn him? Would he shake his head and turn away? Would he huff and behead the dragon? Would he disown him, and decide a new heir?

This time, Hiccup did laugh. It wasn't like he wasn't going to do that anyways. "I did this." He said, but it was sad, mourning as he looked at the ropes, the chafed scales of the dragon. Sighing, and feeling the burden of emotions press down upon his shoulders, he turned to leave, back to the village. No one would go this far out, no one would bother looking for Hiccup's imaginary Night Fury. He could keep this to himself, work on becoming a blacksmith, leave this all behind.

But he still paused. The Night Fury hadn't opened its eyes, laying limp and bound in its rope cage, still waiting for the inevitable embrace of death. Hiccup was dooming it to die, but it wouldn't be at his hand. It could get out… right?

 _If that were true, it would have left by now._ That traitorous part of his mind whispered. _It's still here. It's stuck. What are you going to do about it?_

His grip tightened on his knife. It was at his side, the sharpened blade glinting in the foggy sunlight of early morning. "Gods." He whispered, closing his eyes. It was one thing to not kill a dragon. It would cause public scorn and ridicule, ostracizing en masse from prior friends to hated enemies, and it would effectively label you as untrustworthy, traitorous, even.

It was another, he thought as he began to saw through the thick ropes of the bola, to set it free.

The sharpening had done wonders to the blade's efficiency, the ropes snapping with an ease that almost frightened him. The Night Fury had to be wounded, or at the very least tired, from the crash and subsequent stress. If he ran fast enough, he could get away and into decent cover before it could blast him to ash or slash at him.

The last rope fell away, the entire tangled mess falling loose, and the dragon didn't even hesitate. Rolling and pivoting on its front leg, it used the other to grab Hiccup and pin him onto the same boulder he'd fallen against earlier. He didn't even have the mind to scream, hyperventilating as he felt the warm heat of the dragon's paw _push_ into his chest. He looked up—

And saw those same, toxic eyes with obsidian pupils staring into his very soul, full of hate and scorn, accusing him of a thousand sins. Its warm breaths brushed through his hair, sending chills down his spine. There were no words, no hurried prayers, just watching, waiting for the shoe to drop, the silent forest around them baring down as the only witness to the events about to occur. The village was at least a mile away, maybe more considering how far he'd wandered, and no one came out here for anything.

No one would find his body until it was a rotting, stinking corpse. Hel, maybe even a skeleton.

It wasn't with a sinking realization that Hiccup processed that he was going to die, it was a quick stab that numbed his body. That was it, end of story, end of the Haddock line. Did he expect any different, in the end? Maybe, but at the very least, he had the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

The dragon reared back, an odd grumbling sound coming from the back of its throat, and he closed his eyes, fully prepared to feel a blast of heat and then oblivion.

Instead, he felt a warm huff of air very close to his arm, so close that he could feel moisture gather on his sleeve, and then teeth pierced his flesh.

What he discovered very, very quickly was that, despite being all menacing and growling and lightning and death incarnate, it didn't have very sharp teeth. They were blunt, but its jaw strength was certainly enough to force them into puncturing. He felt the blood push out and stick to his sleeve, and the dragon's rushed breathing through its nose as it ruffled his hair. The paw was still resting on his chest, heavy and a reminder of what was currently happening.

And then it hit him. The dragon was biting his arm, probably about to rip it off, and eating him.

 _He was being eaten._

The thought bounced around his head, but nothing came from it. He couldn't scream, Gods he wanted to, but he was paralyzed. Maybe it was because the dragon was injecting some sort of toxin into him, or maybe it was shock. He'd seen it happen to other Vikings after raids, or after a family member of theirs had died, but had never experienced it, never felt this numb before. It was like his body had frozen over, nothing truly processing except for what was happening directly in front of his eyes.

And then there was a flood of heat, centering from the wound and out to the rest of his body. It wasn't painful, it was simply like a rush of _something_ that curled around his chest, right underneath his paw. Hiccup's gaze flicked to meet the Night Fury's eyes.

For a moment, very briefly, so quick he thought it was a trick of the light, he thought its eyes were _glowing_.

The warmth reached his head, and darkness consumed him.

* * *

Sensations came back slowly, his fingers twitching as he groaned, eyelids heavy and refusing to open. His eyes scrunched in confusion, where was his blanket? Why his bed so hard and uncomfortable?

And then he remembered, _Night Fury._

Jolting up, Hiccup panted as he patted his body over, surprised to see that he was still in one piece, if a little chewed on. He had everything: two arms, two legs, ten fingers and toes, his chest and stomach weren't marked up with slashes and bite marks, his face felt like it was normal, except for that one scratch.

He started to laugh, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Gods, Gobber was right! Apparently, some dragons needed toothpicks every now and again, and he fit the bill! That was the only thing he was good for, cleaning up after a good meal, couldn't even be _eaten_ properly. Then again, that was the only reason he was currently alive. If he had Snotlout's body, not only would he be admired, but he'd also be as good as dead.

Gods, how long was he out? Sighing he craned his head skyward, squinting as he peered through the tree branches. The sky was alight with reds and oranges, the clouds a hazy gray against the evening sky. The morning fog had since given way to clear paths and skies, and the ending sunset was testimony to Berk's surprising hidden beauty that few took the time to admire.

Right now, however, the sight sent him into a frenzied panic. Sunset? He'd gone out at dawn, and then had wandered into the early morning hours when he had encountered the Night Fury. He'd been unconscious for what had to be more than twelve hours, and he wouldn't be able to get back to the village until nightfall, especially considering he had no clue as to where he was in relation to Berk.

Swearing under his breath, Hiccup clambered to his feet and turned back the way he'd came, sprinting to try and make it back to the village before the new moon rose into the sky. Forget the dragon, it flew away and he wasn't dead, that was good enough.

He couldn't kill a dragon. No, worse than that, he _wouldn't_ kill a dragon. Today's events had proven such, and if his father had even an inkling of what had occurred…

Oh Odin, he'd have his head put on a pike for all in the village to spit on. If he wasn't screwed before, he certainly was now. At the very least, in all the prior raids, he had the bravado for dragon fighting, and he genuinely thought he _wanted_ to. Sure, his father disapproved of him fighting a dragon, and most of the village thought he would be better locked away in his house, but that was because he tried.

Now he couldn't try. He knew, he _knew_ , that if it came to him killing a dragon or die at its hands, he'd sooner die because he would never be able to pick up a sword, or an axe, or a bow and arrow, or _anything_ before the dragon could snicker in its weird, draconic way, and turn him into a pile of ash.

His foot caught on a tree root and, already practically stumbling over his own two feet, Hiccup fell, rolling on his side down a steep incline. Pebbles dug into his skin and created new bruises as a fresh layer of dirt was piled onto him as he tumbled before falling into a small brook. Panting, he crawled backwards, pulling his legs out of the water. His boots were completely soaked, and his pants and socks weren't much better.

Panting, Hiccup pulled his legs up to his chest and tried to control his breathing, eyes wild and unfocused as his body began to shake. Thoughts and scenarios rushed through his head, and he tried to calm himself with a glimmer of hope. His father would never allow him to participate in Dragon Training, not in a million years, and he could just work on becoming a better blacksmith under Gobber's tutelage.

He'd be fine. After all, how would he ever get into that kind of situation?

* * *

"You get your wish. Dragon training. You start in the morning."

Hiccup felt his heart plummet, a sinking feeling of despair swallowing him whole. Returning home, he'd tried to escape his father by running upstairs, only for the two of them to start talking. He'd wanted to say that he didn't want to fight dragons, blame it on the miserable display last night for his convictions to change, and then leave it at that with a happy father and relative safety secured.

Instead, his father had changed his mind in less than a day, and he was given permission to train, learn how to fight dragons, wield a weapon, and deliver a killing blow. If the meeting in the woods hadn't happened, if he hadn't shot down the Night Fury, if the news was delivered any day but today, he would have been ecstatic.

But right now, all he could feel was fear.

"Oh man, I should've gone first." The words came unbidden, fueled by panic and his urge to ramble whenever he tried to salvage a situation. "Uh, 'cause I was thinking, you know we have a surplus of dragon-fighting Vikings, but do we have enough… _bread-making_ Vikings, or small home repair—"

"You'll need this." His father grunted as he plopped a heavy axe into Hiccup's waiting hands, the teen stumbling down the stairs under the added weight. It reached his stomach, if he was to put it down on the ground, and it was balanced more towards the blade as to give it more momentum for a stronger impact. If timed correctly and if swung in the right place, it could easily decapitate most of the native dragons that 'visited' Berk.

The thought made him sick, and he felt the blood rush out of his face, and he cast a pleading look to his father. "Dad, I don't want to fight dragons."

Apparently, his begging amused Stoick, judging by the disbelieving chuckle. The stocky man moved towards the hearth, picking up the poker to stir it to life and keep, what looked like, a pot of soup warm. "Come on. Yes, you do."

"Okay, rephrase: dad I _can't kill dragons_."

"But you _will_ kill dragons."

Those toxic green eyes, slit pupils, staring into his soul came unbidden to his mind, and Hiccup swallowed nervously. He almost felt like the Night Fury's head might poke through the window, eyes just as furious as before, ready to blast him to smithereens if he said the wrong thing. "No, I'm really very extra sure that I _won't_."

"It's time Hiccup."

"Can you not hear me?"

"This is serious, son!" Stoick picked up the axe, the cold, gray iron glinting in the firelight. A few dried blotches of something were lined along the blade, and it wasn't hard for Hiccup to draw a conclusion. Just because you shined the metal, didn't mean it washed away the tons of blood that were spilt on it daily. Sometimes, the stains could never wash out.

"When you carry this axe..." He placed it back into Hiccup's hands, who tried to twist it so the blade would cut him when he inevitably had to place it down. "You carry all of us with you. Which means you walk like us. You talk like us. You think like us. No more of..." His face twisted awkwardly, and he gestured in the general direction of his son, scowl marring his face. "this."

The teen wasn't having it. "You just gestured to all of me."

"Deal?" Neither was Stoick.

"This conversation is feeling _very_ one-sided."

" _Deal?_ "

He sighed, holding the axe sideways at his waist. For some reason, it felt nowhere near as heavy as the knife had. This wasn't exactly a Haddock argument that they were known for, but it might as well have been, considering the results. Biting the inside of his lip, Hiccup resigned to his fate. Besides, maybe having some self-defense lessons wouldn't be too bad. "Deal."

Satisfied with his work, Stoick slung a basket over his shoulder and made his way to the door, grabbing his horned helmet as he went. "Good. Train hard. I'll be back… Probably."

Another search, one last one before the docks froze over for the winter. While the dragons were less active during the frigid month of the year, their raids were especially brutal, as if to compensate for their lack of kills.

Hiccup wasn't surprised. It was almost always like this; argument, some sort of temporary resolve, leave, Stoick hears about whatever he's done while away, another argument (these being the ones they were famous for), and then a 'new law' being laid out for him to follow. Tired and wanting nothing more than to rest, Hiccup made a noncommitted remark at his father's retreating back. "And I'll be here… Maybe."

The door slammed shut, and Hiccup felt like he'd been shut into a coffin. He threw the axe away and towards the fire in disgust, then, concerned about tripping over it or his father suddenly returning to see the weapon in such a manner, he placed it on the kitchen table. Feeling the physical and mental strain of the day wearing down on him, Hiccup trudged up the stairs and turned to his bedroom, taking off his vest with care before throwing off the rest of his clothes. He only had the one fur vest, and it was dusty at the most, he could just beat it out later. However, his shirt was torn and bloody, and his pants were in a similar state. His boots were salvageable, but just barely, and he'd have to make sure they didn't become moldy later. How his father hadn't noticed the state he was in, he didn't know and, frankly, he was too tired to care.

Eyes lidded with a yawn lingering in his throat, Hiccup rubbed his hands together before running them over his arms, trying to stay warm in the chilly night air of his room.

He paused, fingers splayed over his arms. The dragon had bit into his right arm, just below his shoulder. His shirt was evidence to this: savagely torn holes in a semicircle, stained with spit and blood, and Hiccup trusted his own memories. He knew where the Night Fury had bit him.

But the wound wasn't there. There were no holes on his arm, or the sticky feeling of dried blood, but rather smooth skin and a dip here and there. Fumbling for the candlestick he kept on his desk, he pulled open a drawer and took out his flint and steel, turning it away from the dry papers and aiming for the wick. It took a few tries (and, admittedly, it was dangerous considering that there was paper _everywhere_ and his room was filled with wood) but the candle was lit without any accompanying flame and he twisted so he could examine his arm.

No gaping, bloody, waiting-to-be-infected wound that Gothi would have to treat. Instead, there were faint scars, all in the same pattern of a tight semi-circle, but it had already scarred over. He twisted around, looking for other injuries he had accumulated throughout the day, and noted that the only thing that had lasted were the bruises. Any cuts had disappeared, and even then, the bruises were fading, yellow instead of the obvious black and blue.

Running back to his belt, Hiccup's shaky hands grasped his knife from his belt and his ruined shirt and sat at his desk, the candle flame dancing merrily despite his confusion. Wincing, he took the knife and, with a hiss, dragged it along his palm, feeling the blood well and spread along his skin. Taking his shirt, he dabbed away the excess blood and watched as the wound stopped and stitched itself back together. In less than a minute, the only evidence of him cutting himself were the red stains on his shirt and knife.

Nausea assaulted him, and he felt like he was seconds away from throwing up. He went to his bed in a daze, pulling the blanket over him and staring up at the ceiling, his mind spinning as it attempted to process everything that had happened in the past hours.

His sleep was tumultuous, filled with him waking and falling back into a restless state. Each of his dreams were filled with the Night Fury's furious roars as it chased him through the town, each one ending with his utter demise.

Waking for the last time at dawn, he sighed and sat up, wondering if his dreams were trying to clarify what he already knew.

* * *

 **AN:** AND IT BEGINS! Yes, this is where the deviations begin, and again, they will become more apparent as the story continues, but I can't wait for chapter three. Plus, there's the advantage that most of it is established dialogue from the movie, so its easy working there. It's just writing out the action scene that will be difficult.

Don't worry, everything will _eventually_ be explained, with Hiccup learning more about what has happened to him. It'll be slow coming, but it'll happen, and the next chapter will either raise more questions or hopefully help clarify stuff. I don't know, didn't make the revelation instantaneous but he does find things out pretty quick.


	4. Chapter 3: New Beginnings

**Chapter 3: New Beginnings**

 _(Excerpt translated by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III)_

 _I never met my Soulbound. It was done when I was a wee bab, apparently. My parents were out fishing, and my mother had brought me along with her to see if I would be interested in the simple life they had set out in front of them (infant or no, they wanted to see if an 'early start' could be inspired). Whilst they were busy, a swarm of dragons had surrounded them, and my mother had placed me under the boat's seat in order to protect me as they fired arrows at the descending hoards._

 _What they hadn't noticed was that a young Stormcutter, only a bab, had snuck onto the ship, found my hiding place, and had taken deep interest with me. It had latched onto my foot, initiating the bond. By the time my parents had discovered what had occurred, the bond was well forged, and the dragon fled once my father struck out with a hammer, nearly blinding it._

 _They simply assumed that my foot had been bitten and, thankfully, that nothing was beyond repair with a few bandages and salves from Gothi and a careful eye for the next few weeks._

 _My grandmother knew better. She vowed to watch over me, 'for safety' she told them, 'for protection' she whispered to me. She taught me everything I knew, how to hide it and be safe under the hate-filled gaze of the surrounding Vikings._

 _But even then, it's not enough. What if that happens to_ my _bab? I can prevent a bond for as long as I am alive, but how long will that be, in a war-fueled village? How long until a raid occurs and he's carted off, only for a bond to form while in the grasp of a Nightmare, or Nadder, or Gronkle or Zippleback? How long can I be a protector from this curse?_

 _And that's why I seek to end_ something. _The war would be great for all Vikings, everyone in the Archipelago would be grateful, the Haddock name held in high regard. However, my nonviolent methods turn the stomach of the entire village, and they are less than willing to listen to me. Any victory on any side leads to more bloodshed, more hate, more violence._

 _No. The only surefire way to protect my bab is to end this curse and save my child._

* * *

"Welcome ta Dragon Training!" Gobber's hook prosthetic snagged the bottom of the gate, throwing it up and turning to the teenage recruits behind him with flair. The cold stone walls were covered with weapon and shield racks, scorch marks adding the deadly touch that Vikings were known for. The metal chain web above them clinked in the morning breeze along the cliff face, the sun hidden behind overcast clouds. Along the far wall were five, heavy metal doors which, if you listened carefully, grumbling could be heard from behind.

"No turning back." Astrid stated as she walked in, axe drawn at her side as she walkeded with steadfast confidence. The other teens turned around as they moved, taking in the arena with awe and delight. Trailing behind them was Hiccup, his own axe hanging disinterestedly in his grasp as he hung away from the more abled Vikings. He was sleep-deprived, anxious, and nauseous to top it all off, only eating half a bowl of soup from his father's 'skilled hands'.

It was decided early on that Hiccup either made his own food or go to the Great Hall at dinner if he wanted something edible, otherwise he'd have to deal with the slop his father made.

"I hope I get some serious burns." Tuffnut wished aloud, dragging Hiccup back to the present.

"I'm hoping for some mauling," Ruffnut responded, rolling her shoulders. Coincidentally, the twins both wielded spears, odd considering their love of causing mischief and chaos wherever they went. He was expecting a sword, maybe, or a mace. "like, on my shoulder or lower back."

The leading shield maiden smirked and flicked a few stray strands of hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it."

Hiccup scoffed, catching the attention of the teens. He didn't blame them for not noticing him, he'd been quiet as he made his way to the arena, and he'd stuck back for good reason. "Yeah, no kidding, right? Pain." He rolled his eyes. "Love it."

"Oh great." Tuffnut pointed his spear at him. "Who let him in?"

Before anyone could make a remark, Gobber sauntered over, done with the beginning preparations. "Let's get started! The recruit who does best will win the honor of killin' his first dragon in front of the entire village." The blacksmith twisted his hook and threw out his hand at the upper ranks, where seating was provided. Used to his theatrics from working in the forge for so long, Hiccup merely sighed and waited for a jab at him.

"Hiccup already killed a Night Fury, so does that disqualify him or...?" Ah, there it was. The twins joined in with Snotlout, pointing at the so-called-heir and laughing, walking further in and leaving the two smiths behind.

Sighing, Hiccup looked down at his axe and closed his eyes. _Thor, Odin, Freyja, Loki, whoever's up there, throw me a bone and get me out of here as soon as you can._

"Don't worry." Gobber slung his salvaged hand over his shoulder, walking him towards the other teens. "Yer small and yer weak. That'll make you less of a target. They'll see you as sick or insane and go after th'more Viking-like teens instead."

Chuckling, he ruffled Hiccup's hair and moved in front of the line of teens, leaving Hiccup next to Fishlegs. The bulkier teen gave him a reassuring smile and, once upon a time, Hiccup might've found the action reassuring. Now, it made him sick. He wanted Fishlegs to either pick a side or give up all together and outcast himself, and stop with this weird back and forth between joining in on his tormentor's remarks and trying to 'console' him.

"Behind these doors are just a few of the many species you will learn ta fight." Gobber continued, gesturing at the doors as he went, trying to amplify the tension. "The Deadly Nadder."

"Speed eight. Armor sixteen." Hiccup glanced to his left at Fishleg's excited whisper, raising his brow confusedly. Sure, it was apparent that Fishlegs was interested in dragons but… that was a little bit extreme, even by Hiccup's standards.

"The Hideous Zippleback."

"Plus eleven stealth. Times two."

"The Monstrous Nightmare."

"Firepower fifteen."

"The Terrible Terror."

"Attack eight. Venom twelve."

"Can ya stop that!" Gobber shouted, and it took a lot of Hiccup's will power not to laugh. It didn't take much to get Gobber in a shouting mood, and ruining his established atmosphere was one of them. Getting back on track, he placed his hand over a lever, the door on his right shaking as something pounded into it. "And... the Gronckle."

Beneath his breath, just loud enough for Hiccup to hear, Fishlegs whispered, "Jaw strength, eight."

Not focusing on that, Hiccup tensed his legs. He'd worked in the forge, under Gobber's watchful yet teasing eye, for nearly eight years at this point, and he knew one thing was certain: his old friend wasn't about to give them an easy first day. The hand on the lever told him that much.

Apparently, Snotlout had also caught on, rushing forward with panic clear in his eyes as he pleaded to Gobber. "Whoa, wait! Aren't you gonna teach us first?"

Hiccup chuckled and, despite his reluctance for dragon fighting, he couldn't help but feel slightly amused at his cousin's panic. Sure, he was in the same boat, but at the very least he expected something crazy out the gate.

As if confirming Hiccup's suspicions, Gobber grinned madly, stone tooth poking out from his lip. "I believe in learning on the job."

The lever was pulled down, just enough for the log to be pulled up and out of the bars keeping it shut, and the clunky dragon burst out. A mottled brown, its wings beat so quickly on its back that they blurred out of focus, the deceptively short wingspan giving the dragon enough lift to keep off the ground and enough speed to become a battering ram, if necessary.

In fact, that's exactly what it did. Flying at near-full speed past the teens, it was unable to slow down before ramming into the wall. Undeterred, it turned and, keeping low to the ground, quickly gobbled up a few large rocks that had been left behind.

Or was it going for them? Hiccup wondered as he watched the dragon cheerfully eat the thick rocks, smashing them with its many thick, sharp teeth. It roared, slit pupils darting around as it picked a target, jumping off the ground to gain height.

He decided that, right now, that didn't much matter.

"Today is about survival. If you get blasted, yer dead." Gobber shouted from near the Gronckle's cage, staying away from the action for now. "Quick, what's th'first thing yer going ta need?

"A doctor?" Hiccup joked, mainly to ease his anxiety. Stones were tough, and they paled in comparison to soft, human flesh and his twiggy bones.

"Plus five speed?"

"A shield." Astrid was already running, keeping the dragon in her eyesight as she dashed for the shield rack.

Gobber nodded. "Shields. Go!" The recruits clambered to their feet and scrambled after their leading star, their mentor continuing his speech. "Yer most important piece of equipment is yer shield. If you must make a choice between a sword or a shield, take th'shield."

Grunting, Hiccup tried to heft the shield onto his arm. Most of the time in the forge, they simply made shields big enough to protect a Viking, never adjusting the weight for the specific user since they got tossed around so much in the heat of battle. As such, he wasn't used to the full weight, even after building so many. Thankfully, Gobber ran over and helped him to his feet, the shield weighing heavy on his right arm.

 _The arm that magically healed itself._ His mind supplied. _Maybe, if you get blasted, your limbs will grow back and your burns will stitch themselves together. Wouldn't be too much of a stretch at this point._

Still, he could be worse off. He could be the twins over on the side, bickering over one that seemed to have a skull design painted on it.

"Get your hands off my shield!"

"There are, like, a million shields!"

"Take that one, it has a flower on it. Girls like flowers."

Growling, Ruffnut managed to pull it out of her grasp long enough to bash him in the face with it, her brother grunting as he held his nose. "Oops, now this one has blood on it."

Hiccup heard that same, disconcerting chortling noise from before and looked to see the Gronkle let loose one of its shots, the explosive fireball hitting the shield dead on. The twins spun as they both tried to keep a grip before they were thrown to the ground, clearly disoriented. Not wasting a second, Gobber continued with his lesson plan as the Gronckle ate another pile of rocks. "Tuffnut, Ruffnut, yer out!

"Those shields are good fer another thing; noise. Make lots of it ta throw off a dragon's aim." Desperate for anything that would keep them alive, the teens started to bang the metal rim and center of their shields with their weapons, the clanging ringing out through the arena. The Gronckle dipped in its soaring majesty, shaking its head as it swiveled around, trying to focus on one target in particular. "All dragons have a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?

"Five?" Snotlout guessed.

"No, six!" Fishlegs corrected.

"Correct, six. That's one for each of ye!" Hiccup rolled his eyes at Gobber's cheerful tone, trying to stay away from the Gronckle's line of sight while not getting hit by its stubby, bludgeoning tail. Sure, it was dangerous to be in any dragon's line of sight, but staying directly behind this one wasn't an option if it decided to swing around, or jolt backwards. Throwing caution to the wind, he pulled his gaze away and saw that one of the racks had been knocked over, and was leaning against the edge of the arena, giving him a wall to hide behind.

 _Better than staying out here with a shield._ He thought, making a run for it. Behind him, he heard Fishlegs nervously start. "I really don't think— _ah!_ "

The sound of the Gronckle letting loose another shot, a hammer clattering to the ground, accompanied by Fishleg's continued shouting, gave Hiccup more than ample evidence to guess what had happened. Gobber's disqualifying shout confirmed it, and he ducked behind the wooden barrier, breathing harshly.

"Gods damn it." He whispered, looking at the axe. It was too heavy for him to carry around and, to be fair, it was weighing him down. He'd always been better in the speed category, given his size, and he didn't have the upper body strength to heft the axe high enough to take a swing. Even then, he doubted he could keep his resolve long enough to harm the Gronckle, let alone kill it. "What does that leave me with?"

"Hiccup, get in there!" Gobber shouted, and a shot detonated on the wall directly in front of him, a few embers catching on the wood. Even though it was wet, they clung on stubbornly, hoping to ignite.

 _Sharp wit and a sharper tongue_. He thought as he ran back out, the heat from the blast singing his face as he passed. Thankfully, the Gronckle's attention had shifted to Astrid and Snotlout who, if he had to guess from his demeanor, was trying to hit on her. In fact, he was practically shouting, trying to grab Astrid's attention as she bounced on her heels, watching the dragon's every move.

"So, anyway, I'm moving into my parents' basement. You should come by sometime to work out. You look like you work out—" Hiccup watched as Astrid cartwheeled toward him, leaving Snotlout to deal with the incoming fireball. It hit his shield, preventing him from being horribly injured, but it was enough in Gobber's book to consider him out of the lesson.

Hiccup watched as the blonde gracefully backflipped onto her feet, axe and shield expertly handled in her hands. He shuffled awkwardly, attention captivated by her, but not enough to notice her eyes widening. "So, I guess it's just you and me, huh?"

"No. Just you." She dodged again, and Hiccup looked forward just in time to scream and raise his shield as a lava slug hit him dead on, throwing away the shield and pushing him onto his back.

 _Could've given me more warning!_ He thought, but he brushed the agitation aside as the Gronckle dove, dead set on finishing the training lesson with him a charred corpse. Gobber shouted something from his safe spot, but it was drowned out in the sound of rushing blood as Hiccup abandoned his axe and did what he did best, _run._

Still, there was only so much space he _could_ run. Not wanting to lead the dragon to the easy kills of the defenseless recruits, Hiccup turned right, only for the Gronckle to pick up speed and practically flatten him against the wall. Panting, Hiccup tried to crawl back as much as he could as the Gronckle sneered at him, opening its mouth and letting the lava build in the back of its throat, the earthy scent of dust and charcoal meeting Hiccup's face.

 _Oh Gods, I'm dead._

He didn't know whether it was a conscious action, or just a panic-fueled response, but he grit his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and _snarled_. Barely focused and more concerned about making some distance between him and the Gronckle's mouth, his mind went on autopilot as he growled out. _"Get away!"_

It startled even the Gronckle, whose eyes snapped down to meet him. However, the brimming flames refused to die down. In fact, they got even brighter. _"Rider…!"_

The Gronckle's head was forcefully dragged to Hiccup's left, the lava shot flying out and slamming into the stone wall. He ducked down and covered his head as small bits of scorching debris fell around him. Gobber, hooked hand twisted to keep a hold as he wrestled with the Gronckle. It continually pulled back, trying to crane its head to look at Hiccup, but Gobber continued to relentlessly pull it back to its cage. "And that's six! Go back ta bed, ya overgrown sausage! You'll get another chance, don't you worry."

But as Hiccup watched, he could hear another voice, far more feminine with a distinct roll in its voice that differentiated itself from Gobber's. _"No, no no no, wait! Wait just one—quit pulling at my tooth you over grown lump of wood, I just need to… I just need to check—!"_

The door to the Gronckle's cage was slammed shut, the log sliding back into place, and the voice was lost. Taking the opportunity, Gobber pulled Hiccup back to his feet and turned to address him and the other recruits. "Remember... a dragon will always, _always_ go fer the kill."

He walked away, the silent dismissal calming the teens as they followed him out of the arena. Not taking the initiative, Hiccup did his best to calm his rattled nerves. He turned to look at the wall he had been pinned against not a moment prior and saw, at his eye level, a burning pit with flame red cracks running throughout it. If Gobber hadn't reacted, that could've been his head.

But that voice, the growl he had let loose, the wounds that he'd received only for them to heal supernaturally fast…

He needed to find the Night Fury.

* * *

This time, the woods was lit with the afternoon glow of the sun. Light flitted down through small gaps in the leaves, showing off the damp, thriving moss and grass that clung to everything in sight. The clearing would have been beautiful, if not for the downed tree, the upturned earth, and the remains of a bola scattered on the forest floor.

The same clearing he'd found the Night Fury in.

The same clearing his life had become a wild mystery.

And right now, the only way he was going to solve that mystery would be to find the dragon. The very same dragon that had probably flown off to Gods know where after it had bitten his arm, and he had virtually no clues as to where it went.

Bending down, Hiccup picked up one of the heavy stones that gave the bola enough weight to bring down a dragon. He threw it up and down lightly in his palm, sighed, and put it down. Unless he had an amazing sense of smell within the next few seconds, he couldn't track the Night Fury with the remains of his bola. Instead, he pushed forward, further away from the village, and began to aimlessly wander. If worse came to worse, he would get lost for a day and then return to dragon training where no one except Gobber and _maybe_ Fishlegs would miss him.

 _A dragon will always go for the kill._

There was no reason why the Night Fury had let him go after a single bite. He was pinned, not physically capable of throwing the dragon off, had no back up with him at the time or coming, and he'd shot it down. If anything, it was Loki bringing the dragon repayment for having him, the disgrace of the Viking village, shoot down such a powerful and deadly beast.

But no. A simple pinning, growling, and then a bite. Granted, it'd left Hiccup in the near-winter cold in the middle of the forest with no protection, but what was he expecting? A nice hot meal and a blanket besides him?

Still, he wanted a sign of some sorts that he was going in the right direction. He lowered himself from a slightly high ledge and dropped, falling onto a natural pathway of white stones and moss before walking down the small tunnel.

He couldn't have been graced with a better view. Beams of sunlight fell down into an isolated cove that was lined with large, smooth rocks and ferns, with springy moss at the bottom. At the center laid a spring pool, clear as day and probably freshwater, considering that they were far inland. The trees that had grown close to the edge had roots draped down the walls until they reached the ground and firmly planted themselves in the rich soil below. A small flock of birds dove down, cawing at each other as they swooped around the small, pristine paradise.

…But it wasn't what he was looking for. With a dejected sigh, Hiccup looked down at his feet and muttered to himself. "Well this was stupid." Shifting his weight to his other foot, his shadow moved just enough so that it illuminated something on the ground that caught his eye. Kneeling, he picked up a small black scale, big enough that it eclipsed his thumb, but easily fit in the palm of his hand.

So the Night Fury _had_ been here. It might have stopped to examine its injuries, and shed a few loose scales, but it was clearly gone—

The sun was blotted out, but for only a second, and an ear-shattering roar rang through the cove. Instinctively throwing himself into the shadows of the tunnel, Hiccup gasped and watched as a long, scale-covered tail flicked over the entrance. He darted forward, keeping close to the walls, as he heard scrabbling clicks directly to his right. A buzzing sound filled his head, like a swarm of bees had surrounded him, and he heard a voice.

 _"Come on you Goddess forsaken walls, let me—let me get a grip! Damn these blunt claws and all the good they've ever done for me… ARGH!"_

The Night Fury roared, slipping down the cliff wall and briefly showing those same toxic eyes before pushing off and gliding over the pool, landing with… less grace than Hiccup had imagined. It had fallen onto its front legs, one folding underneath its weight, as its wings struggled to balance it correctly as it picked itself up.

He'd found it.

He'd found it!

A disbelieving grin spread across Hiccup's face as he inched closer to the edge of the tunnel, eyes watching the dragon's every move. The buzzing in his mind, while disconcerting, was painless, and he brushed it to the side, blaming it as another odd thing that had been the fault of the Night Fury. Understanding dragons? What good would that do for either of them?

The Night Fury snarled, taking a running start as it leapt atop a felled log and then flapped its wings, gaining height, only to swerve left and crash to the ground nearly below Hiccup's hiding spot. _"Son of a Half-Flame Skin! Work, you moronic wings! You should be able to get enough lift to get out of here alive, I don't need goddess-damned_ steering _to go up!"_ Another screech at it flew directly upwards, uncaring about speed and simply focused on climbing higher into the sky before scrabbling at an outwards-jutting smooth boulder.

Again, the Night Fury lost its hold and fell to the ground, muttering irritably and shaking itself out, fully expanding its wings. Snapping out of his excited daze, Hiccup fumbled for his personal journal and pencil, early opening it to a brand-new page and sketching the dragon with quick, precise strokes.

"Why don't you just… fly away?" Hiccup pondered aloud as he looked down back at the dragon. Snarling with fury, it let out a plasma blast and scorched the ground in front of it, the brief explosion soundless upon impact. With the brief flash and swish of its tail, Hiccup looked down at his book and corrected an error that he'd made in his sketch. The dragon only had one tail fin: he'd drawn two to keep its body symmetrical.

A new crash drew Hiccup's attention back to the Night Fury, which was currently dejectedly laying only a nudge away from the pond's surface. Something caught its eye, and it sauntered to its feet, slit pupils darting wildly as the rest of its body remained tense, ready to strike.

Suddenly, its head darted forward, jaws open and ready to clamp down on its unlucky victim. However, a moment later, it drew its head out of the water with no reward, growling at the shallow depths. _"Never should have let that twig of a human go. At the very least, I'd be satisfied before my death."_

Hiccup tensed, but at the same time, he didn't immediately flee. While the words were threatening to hear, there was only sullen contempt in the voice, as if it was just being angry for the sake of being angry. Thinking back to earlier, when he'd heard the… Gronckle, he guessed, the stout dragon seemed to have more wisdom in its voice. If he had to compare the two, the Gronckle sounded like Phelgma, a proud mother of four from the village, while the Night Fury sounded like…

Like him.

The realization made Hiccup sit back, only to dart forward as his pencil slipped out of his grasp. The wood clattered against the stone as it fell all the way to the bottom of the cove, landing on even more rocks as it went down.

Any hopes that the Night Fury would only concern itself with the pencil were dashed when it stood, and ran its eyes up to Hiccup's ledge. Their eyes locked, the dragon's pupils thankfully staying somewhat round, while Hiccup remained frozen. A thunderous growl left the Night Fury's throat, and it showed its teeth as it shouted out to Hiccup, who could already see the incoming plasma bolt. _"You!"_

* * *

"I swear to the Goddess, I could _feel it._ "

The dragons collectively groaned at the Cruncher's insistence, the Small Snap cackling madly at their misery. The Shine Scales turned away from trying to clean her scales in the dim light of dusk that managed to make its way through the hole above. It was mainly used to drop fish down for her to eat, but even then, those times were rare. Still, she kept an ear open to the discussion that would follow. She and the Cruncher were the longest lasting caged 'victims' of the Vikings, with the Small Snap following them third, then the Double-back, the Flame Skin having been thrown in a few days ago, after the raid.

"'Feeling something' is different from knowing the truth." The Flame Skin snarled, her opinion backed by the chirping Double-back's heads. "You're old and you've eaten too many of these savage's little treats, you probably imagined it."

"I'm afraid that I have to agree." Hummed the Shine Scales as she attempted to console her long-time friend. "There hasn't been a Rider on this island for more than ten years. Besides, wouldn't the hatchling's nest-bearers make the Bond when he was younger? We would have sensed it long before now."

"In a village that gets ransacked monthly by the Queen's forces, it's not unlikely that 'is nest-bearers died before they could supervise one and select a specific dragon for Bonding." The Cruncher rebutted before a loud huff came from her cage. "The dragon discovers that the boy comes from a line of Riders, sees an opportunity, forges the bond, and flees before another Viking can kill them or irreparably damage their souls. It's not that big a boulder to swallow!"

The Double-back took this opportunity to slam against their cage door, heads butting in and overtaking the conversation one after the other as they proceeded with their odd bickering. "Not enough time! Raid was long but—not enough for bond! Their souls would be broken—destroyed before they could bond! Cruncher is wrong! Cruncher is wrong!"

The eldest dragon snorted. "I never said it was forged _during_ the raid, just that it was made recently. Within the week."

"I still don't believe you." The Flame Skin grumbled and retreated further into her makeshift den, her voice echoing slightly. "These bloodthirsty _beasts_ could never ascend to the grand heights of a _Rider._ "

"Well, I'm up next for their Growing Ceremony, correct? It's Cruncher, me, Double-back, and then whatever Two-Limb feels necessary. I can check!"

" _Sure,_ " The Double-back heads sang. "Just know you'll be looking—into a mad Cruncher's ramblings!"

The Shine Scales rolled her eyes and turned in the general direction of the Cruncher's cage. "Can you tell me what he looked like?"

"You know how my head gets when they bang those shields of theirs." The dragon sighed. "I can tell you that he was scrawny, thinner than the Small Snap that sneaks out all the time, and that he had brown stuff on him."

"Like… droppings?"

" _No!_ It was the fuzz upon his head or those ridiculous pelts they all wear. If he had dung smeared all over him, I'd tell you to smell for the dung."

The Flame Skin chuckled. "He might as well've been, because you said you couldn't tell what dragon he's bonded with."

"I said that it wasn't a native-born and it wasn't a breed that's in this arena. Besides, I've been in here for twelve generations of humans. Of course I'd forget a scent or two…"

The Shine Scales sighed and settled down for a nap, the chittering bicker of the Double-back lulling her to sleep. _Well, it's better than nothing._


	5. Chapter 4: Uncomfortable Betrayals

**Chapter 4: Uncomfortable Betrayals**

 _Today, there was a dragon raid, and as I rushed out to try and prevent as many deaths as possible, Stoick pulled me back. Worry shined in his eyes as he got Hoark and Burnthair to escort me to the Great Hall and lock me in with the other expecting mothers. "For my protection," he assuaged me. "For our child, to make sure that you will both live."_

 _I understood, by the Gods above, I_ understood, _but if that loving action did not fill me with endless hate. I can protect myself just fine, but at the same time, I could understand Stoick's actions and his logic. The babe needed to stay alive, and to do that, I needed to stay out of the way. For the first time in what must have been years, the dragon's roaring and the sound of blistering flames being spat out of their mouth filled me with fear._

 _I could hear all the whispers from the wives, talking about my reputation of being the 'peaceful' Viking, of the only one that would rather lower my axe than heft it above my head. In those moments, I felt the world closing around me and, despite the size of the Great Hall, I felt like I'd been thrown into a cage that was being filled with sand._

 _When I and the other pregnant women were let out, I rushed out and heaved. I blamed it on morning sickness, but deep down I knew it was my fear and the burning gaze of my fellow Vikings. Holding my stomach, I felt even more sick as I wondered what my child's future would bring. Would he take after his father, thirsting for blood, seeking to eradicate the dragons that hunted the archipelago? Or would he take after me and hope for a gentle peace?_

 _I heaved again, my husband's hand like a boulder on my back as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear._

* * *

 _"_ _Get down here, right now!"_ The Night Fury snarled, and Hiccup backed away from the edge. _"Don't_ run away _!"_

"And what, offer myself to you? Fat chance! Like I'm _that_ stupid." He sniped back, then paused to evaluate just how insane his current situation was. Here he was, not fifty feet away from the deadliest dragon that ever graced Berk's skies, and he was currently not dead. And he was _talking to it_.

If it weren't for the fact that he could see the dragon moving to respond to him and had a fair amount of proof that it wasn't just his imagination acting up, Hiccup would've declared himself insane.

 _"_ _Hey, if you were stupid enough to release me and not take an easy kill, then anything's possible."_ The Night Fury snapped him out of his reverie, but he stubbornly stayed behind his self-designated 'safe line'. A few seconds later, the dragon huffed. _"Look, I'm in a tough situation here, and since you're indebted to me, I'm ordering you to help me."_

A stunned silence hung over the cove for a moment. "…You're kidding me, right? After you bit me? If anything, you're indebted to me."

 _"_ _That bite was a favor considering what I_ could _have done to you. Besides, we're bonded now, so unless you want to feel your soul get ripped to shreds, then you should be helping me."_

Hiccup paused at the threat, risking a peak over the boulder to see the Night Fury meet his gaze unblinkingly. The claim was large, and it only came with questions. Was that another thing that came with the 'understanding dragons' package? How could the dragon do that?

But most importantly, was it bluffing?

Testing the waters, Hiccup turned around and lowered his leg off the ledge, searching for the rock outcropping that was beneath him. He could feel the Night Fury's gaze burning holes in his back, waiting for him to drop, waiting for an easy meal…

So, he pulled himself back up and started to walk back through the tunnel and underneath the overhang. He nearly tripped over his own two feet, the light from before having faded, either from dusk's approach or the threatening storm clouds on the horizon.

And behind him, the Night Fury's rage exploded, the roars echoing around the cove so loud that he thought that his father, all the way out at the Dragon's Nest, could hear it. _"You son of a Small Snap! Get back here or, so help me Goddess, I'll show you what I should have done when you had released me. You useless, twig of a human, I hope you eat a batch of eels before you fall into the ocean and_ die _. I HOPE THE QUEEN NAMES YOU HER PERSONAL SERVANT AND YOU CHOKE ON HER DROPPINGS! DO YOU HEAR ME, RIDER? I WILL MAKE THE REST OF YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL!"_

Hiccup walked faster, waiting for some inevitable pain to overtake him as he'd collapse onto his legs, but nothing happened as the sky darkened with clouds thick with rain water. He felt a little bit better, even justified, as the rain started to fall and the Night Fury's angered 'screaming' converted back to senseless roars.

He didn't need a dragon's help. There were books in the village, at least one had to have heard some rumors about Night Furies or curses or a combination of the two, and how to fix it. Gothi might even have a cure ready to go in her hut, for all he knew.

The thought didn't make his heart feel any lighter.

* * *

Despite breaking into a jog more than halfway back in order to make it to the Great Hall before nightfall, Hiccup was unable to escape the fury of the thunderstorm in time. Pushing open the excessively large, ornate doors that guarded the gathering place for the Vikings of Berk, he heard Gobber's voice echo to him, only to hear Astrid's personal criticism. "I mistimed my summersault dive. It was sloppy. It threw off my reverse tumble."

Trying to twist as much water from his clothes as he could, Hiccup rolled his eyes and made his way over to the long table that the recruits were all sharing with Gobber, droplets of water following him as he went. The other teens continued talking, only a few glances his way showing that they knew he was present.

"Yeah. We noticed." Ruffnut scoffed, only to gag as Snotlout attempted to flirt.

"No, no, you were great. That was so 'Astrid'."

Sighing, Hiccup grabbed the leftover plate with a chicken leg on it, vaguely surprised that none of the teens had batted it to the floor, or already have eaten it. "She's right, you have to be tough on yourselves." Gobber's gaze turned to Hiccup, and he realized that one of the possible reasons why no one had touched his food was because he'd protected it.

Apparently, Gobber didn't have the same mind set for criticism. "Where did Hiccup go wrong?"

It was practically open season. Scooting around Snotlout, Hiccup barely grabbed his own drink before Snotlout forcefully scooted over, either to keep him away or to knock him over. Both were plausible answers, but he already knew the drill, going to the next table over to eat as the teens jibed at him with their own 'comments'.

"Uh, he showed up."

"He didn't get _eaten!_ "

"He's _never_ where he _should be_." His impassive façade fell at Astrid's remark. The twins, he was used to them and their attempts to affect him, but Astrid's comment was filled with more venom then he could've possible imagined. He hadn't exactly been the best at fighting dragons, and with good reason all things considered, but he hadn't ruined her chances at getting to kill the Monstrous Nightmare. He'd gotten hit and nearly killed, she'd avoided every blast the Gronckle had hit them with.

And yet, she sounded furious, even bitter as she spat at him, turning back to her own drink. Accepting his own defeat, Hiccup poked at the chicken leg and swirled the Meade that he'd grabbed, listening disinterestedly as Gobber continued. " _Thank you_ , Astrid. Ye need to live and breathe this stuff." Gobber swiped some of the leftovers and dirty mugs to the side, dropping something onto the table that Hiccup couldn't see. "The Dragon Manual. Everything we know about every dragon we know of."

Hiccup perked up at that, trying to see past Gobber. He couldn't imagine the book to be _too_ large, considering that most Vikings were only concerned about how to kill it and what to avoid when doing so, but there had to be a section on Night Furies in there _somewhere_. Yes, it was a rare dragon, but with the frequency it showed up to raids, it had to have been jotted down somewhere in there. Problem was trying to find it and flip through it discreetly enough.

Through the thick, stone walls of the Great Hall, a rumble of thunder could be heard, and the blacksmith hummed. "No attacks tonight, to dark and rainy for a dragon's liking. Study up."

"Wait, you mean read?" Tuffnut called after Gobber, dropping his knife.

"While we're still alive?" His sister asked disbelievingly

"Why read words when you can just kill the stuff the words tell you stuff about?" Hiccup rolled his eyes at his cousin's remark and took a sip of his drink, wincing at the slightly bitter flavor. Ah, so _that's_ what the teens had messed with."

"Oh! I've read it like, _seven times._ There's this water dragon that sprays boiling water at your face. And there's this other one that buries itself for like a week—"

"Yeah, that sounds great." Tuffnut hurriedly interrupted before Fishlegs could go on. "There was a chance I was going to read that...

"...but now..."

"You guys read, I'll go kill stuff." Following their 'leader's' lead, the twins left with Snotlout, followed by Fishlegs, who continued to spout information after them. Taking his chance, Hiccup darted over to the other table before they could notice and smiled at Astrid, across from him, who was looking down into her empty mug.

"So… I guess we'll share—"

"Read it." She pushed the book towards him and stood, leaving the table and confidently making her way to the door, not even looking back.

"All mine then! Wow, so okay. So, uh, I'll see you—" The doors to the Great Hall creaked open, a brief rush of rain making it in before Astrid slipped through and out, closing them behind her. "Tomorrow."

Sighing, Hiccup sat down at the table and dug in to his meal, patiently waiting for the remaining Vikings to leave or become so drunk they'd pass out. If he was going to do this, he'd need as much privacy as possible.

* * *

Long after the center fire pit had run out of fuel to burn, the hall was as empty as it was going to get. Candle in hand, Hiccup returned to the table and placed it nearby the book so that he'd have sufficient light to read. He'd gotten a bit drier since he'd come in, but the rain hadn't let up for a second and, in a way, he was trying to stall it out.

What better way to do that than to read? After all, time flies when you're having _fun._

Able to get a better look at the manual, he could tell that it was probably several generations old, just by looking at the state of it. Most Viking's wouldn't care if a book got burnt to ash in a raid, but this one had obviously been protected for a long time, and treated with as much care as they could muster.

Opening it to the first page, he was surprised to see that there was actually a table of contents. He read the first few in his head then, feeling somewhat uneased by the lack of sound, read the last few aloud to try and calm himself. "Strike class. Fear class. Mystery class… which one are you under?"

No one ever talked about Night Furies, either because they were so elusive that no one knew what to say _about_ them or just that Vikings don't really have casual conversations about any dragon. Flipping to a random page, he stopped and read over what the book had to offer. There was an illustration provided, with a large, gaping mouth, spikes cover its tail, stubby legs, and two large wings. "Thunderdrum. This reclusive dragon inhabits sea caves and dark tidepools. When startled, the Thunderdrum produces a concussive sound that can kill a man at close range. Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight." As if to complement it, there was another image of the Thunderdrum screeching, and a Viking being decapitated from the attack.

 _Lovely._ He thought, and then turned the page. A new drawing, a dragon that was incredibly thin and littered with hundreds of spikes, it only had its wings and a pair of hooked protrusions, possibly acting as front and hind legs. He'd never seen one before but, considering what the manual had to say about it, he didn't want to. "Timberjack. This gigantic creature has razor sharp wings that can slice through full grown trees...extremely dangerous. Kill on sight.

Another page, another new dragon. With a large sack under its mouth, it didn't appear to have any flying capabilities, with its short 'legs' and lack of wings. "Scauldron. Sprays scalding water at its victim. Extremely dangerous—"

Hiccup yelped as a clap of thunder boomed overhead, a flash of lightning making its way through the pried open doors of the Great Hall. He'd left it open so that way he could see if the rain had stopped falling, but to also keep the night watch from locking them shut so that he could make his way home. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Hiccup turned back to the book, taking a look at the page he'd flipped to. "Changewing. Even newly hatched dragons can spray acid. Kill on sight."

Frustrated that he was in the 'non-native' section of the book, he began flipping through the pages, the dancing candle light and his own paranoia making the images move and dance to their heart's content. "Gronckle. Zippleback. The Skrill. Bone Knapper. Whispering Death." Puzzled, he only glanced at the end words, noticing similar phrases and buzzwords. "Burns its victims, buries its victims, chokes its victims, turns its victims inside-out. Extremely dangerous, extremely dangerous, kill on sight, kill on sight, kill on sight..."

He paused, and flipped back a page. There, completely blank and lacking any illustrations or deadly conclusion, was the page he was looking for. "Night Fury. Speed unknown. Size unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance, hide and pray it does not find you."

That was it. No parting words concerning curses, or magic, or being able to talk. It closed on run, pray, and 'good riddance', the opposite of everything that had been drilled into his head. The Night Fury defied all normal standards of tradition and, apparently, so did he.

Because he'd shot it down, he'd set it free, he met it again, and time after time it hadn't killed him. And now, he had a 'Bond', or whatever the Night Fury had called it, and he didn't know what that meant.

Closing the book with delicate care, Hiccup huffed and put his head down, rubbing his hand over his right arm, feeling the slight bumps of his scar, but just barely. "I don't need the Night Fury, I don't need the Night Fury, I don't need the Night Fury…"

But convincing himself was getting harder and harder to de each day.

* * *

"So…" Hiccup looked up from the arena to meet Gobber's steely gaze. "You know, I just happened to notice the book had nothing on Night Furies. Is there another book? Or sequel? Maybe a little Night Fury pamphlet?"

The wooden wall to his right burst into flames, the head of his axe taken with it in seconds. Turning to look at the destruction for just a second, he looked down the constructed hall in front of him to see the Deadly Nadder drop to the ground and dash towards him, that familiar buzzing rising steadily the closer it came. _"There! You, are you him?"_

He didn't wait to hear Gobber's chastisement, dodging left and right to try and confuse the dragon before banking right and going in a dead sprint and making whatever turns necessary to outrun it. The Deadly Nadder was famous for three things: the way its scales were supposed to shine in the sunlight whenever you saw one, the deadly, poison tipped spines that could be launched from its tail, and the fire that burned so hot it could melt metal in seconds.

In other words, he was defenseless, considering that the shield could easily catch fire or be burnt to ash and had no way to make substantial noise. Growling, he turned again, hearing Gobber call out to the other recruits over the buzz, which had faded slightly. "Today is all about attack. Nadders are quick and light on their feet. Your job is to be quicker and lighter."

 _"Hm… what about_ you _!"_

Fishlegs screamed from nearby, and he nearly turned, ready to run back for his fellow Viking in fear he got hit with deadly flames or spikes. Thankfully, Fishlegs shouted out a moment later. "I'm _really_ beginning to question your teaching methods!"

"Look for its blind spot. Every dragon has one. Find it, hide in it, and strike." If he wasn't concerned for his general livelihood, Hiccup would've rolled his eyes. Sure, the advice was useful, and he'd obviously need to use it in future situations, but right now _stopping_ was the worst possible thing he could do. Navigating the maze, he eventually made the correct turns to make it back to his spot where he could talk to Gobber, letting Astrid and Snotlout run ahead of him. "Hey, so how would one sneak up on a Night Fury?"

His mentor figure sighed and replied with rushed statement, rolling his eyes at the seemingly pointless questions. "No one's ever met one and lived to tell the tale. Now, _get in there_!"

"I know, I _know,_ but… hypothetically—"

"Hiccup!" The whisper drew his attention, and he turned to see both Astrid and Snotlout crouched, the former mouthing the words 'get down'. The buzzing in his head rose, and he followed her advice, regrettably moving closer to the wall and, by extension, Snotlout. She somersaulted forward and dashed away, his cousin following her lead not seconds later and, seeing the ease they performed the move, Hiccup attempted it.

Of course, of _course_ , his shield stops him, pulling him back and making a loud _clang_ as it hits the stone floor. "Honestly, trying to sneak past me? Stay still so that I can check something, stupid human!" Screaming as the Nadder rushed him, Hiccup ran in the opposite direction, surprising himself with his speed, and mentally breathing a sigh of relief as the Nadder jumped on top of the walls, descending upon some other Viking in the arena.

Once again, he made his way back to Gobber, the man already groaning as he knew what would occur. "I mean, think about it. They probably take the daytime off—you know, like a cat. Has anyone ever seen one napping?" The other teens rushed past him, Fishlegs even bumping into him, but it wasn't until Gobber pointed behind him did he see the walls collapsing all around him.

A more human screech from above alerted him to Astrid, jumping over the walls and now careening towards him. He fell back in shock, his shield the only thing saving his arm as Astrid landed directly on him, her axe lodging in the aged wood. Immediately she collected herself, attempting to pull her favorite weapon out and simultaneously get off of him. That wasn't to say that Hiccup was laying there prone, he was trying to push up and pull his arm out of the shield's straps, but every time he did, Astrid pushed him back down.

The twins ate it up, crooning off to the side. " _Oooh!_ Love on the battlefield!"

"She could do better."

The buzzing rose, and Hiccup's struggling grew more intense. _"There, it has to be you, the others are too dim-witted to be a Rider!"_

"Just—let me... why don't you—" Astrid jumped to her feet with a panicked gasp, insistently tugging on the hilt of her axe and, disgustingly, placing her boot on Hiccup's face to get more leverage. With an inhuman growl, Hiccup pulled his arm down, only to feel the leather straps snap and Astrid spin free, just in time for the shield to smash into bits as it hit the Nadder's snout.

"Well done, Astrid." Gobber called out as he made his way over to the disoriented dragon, insistently tugging it back into its pen. Hiccup rolled over and pushed himself to his knees, rubbing his check to try and get rid of as much pain and dirt he could. His face scrunched up in confusion as he felt something more rough than skin, and he pulled his hand back to look at it only to tug it close to his chest, scrunching up his shirt as he made a fist.

His palm was covered, absolutely covered, with black scales. Set into his skin, shining like newly-made metal on a sunny morning, they were in stark contrast to his pale, freckled skin.

Astrid's shout startled him, and he jumped to his feet, twisting to meet her icy blue gaze. "Is this some kind of a joke to you?" Pointing the head of her axe at him, she continued, practically vibrating with restrained rage. "Our parents' war is about to become _ours._ Figure out which side you're on."

Breathing heavily, either from the amount of running he'd done or to calm himself, he watched Astrid strut away, the teens following behind her like herded sheep. With shaky… everything, really, he pulled his hand away from his chest and uncurled his fingers.

His normal, pale, fleshy hand had returned, familiar callouses and lines having returned. He looked up, seeing that Gobber had left, but Gothi was looking down at him with a slight tilt to her head, fingers running over the grooves of her ancient staff.

Hiccup hung his head. He couldn't get a lucky break, could he? Not only had he embarrassed himself in front of all the teens _again,_ which had nearly resulted in his and Astrid's death if that Nadder had wanted to kill them, but he'd done it directly in front of the elder. Sure, he didn't want to kill the Monstrous Nightmare, but that was ruining his relations with the Elder for future interactions as well.

He ran his fingers over his palm again, eyes widening as he felt the tough surface of scales once again. There was a splattering of scales covering his palm, simply pushing out of his skin with an odd, pins-and-needles feeling. Hyperventilating, Hiccup ran out of the arena and took the long path back to his house, which ran along the forest's edge and away from the prying eyes of the local Vikings.

Halfway down the path, he checked his hands again. They were completely wrapped—fingertips to wrists and continuing to spread up his arms—in midnight black scales that glittered slightly in the faint sunlight. Panting, he leaned against a tree, shoving his hands under his arms, only at the last minute pulling them back to check his nails. Enraptured by the scales, he'd forgotten to check that his nails hadn't changed either.

Thankfully, they were blunt, but if enough force was applied, they could easily rip into his skin. Running his fingers through his hair, he breathed, trying to calm himself. He couldn't go to Gothi, not with his hands like this, at least. Her hut was in the middle of the village, and he doubted he could make his way through without someone seeing him, or worse, one of the teens. Biting his lip and pacing back and forth in a small circle, he contemplated going the rest of the way home, but what would that solve? What if he woke up the next morning, and his arms and chest were coated in even more scales?

There was a third option…

Groaning, Hiccup went back to the village, making sure to stick to the back roads that the currently sparsely populated village rarely traveled on, and headed for the docks.

* * *

AN: I'm so sorry for not putting an author's note in the previous chapter! As an update, there might not be an update next week as I've gotten sick and I'm trying to stay on top of my school work. I might wait another week so that way I can have some back up writing in case I'm completely out of commission, y'know?

Regardless, thank you all for reading, and I hope you're enjoying the story so far!


	6. Chapter 5: Better Beginnings

**Chapter 5: Better Beginnings**

 _When I first met Stoick—_ truly _met Stoick—it was after a Berserker raid on Berk. As I never truly owned my own weapon, I was forced to fight with my fists. My… abilities helped me, as skin thicker than stone does help in a fight. The Berserkers fled with their tails between their legs, and Stoick..._

 _This bulky man, only the chief's heir at the time, looking stunned to see tens of men unconscious and bruised and moaning in pain at my feet. I could see it in his eyes, that lovey-dovey look that Loki knows can crush a man's soul in seconds._

 _It would be a lie to say that I did not feel the same way._

* * *

The Cod, still wet and slimy from the fisher's catch, made a wet slapping noise as Hiccup tossed it out into the cove. As he predicted, it didn't go far, and after holding his breath, he took a few, careful steps forward when the Night Fury hadn't appeared. He'd hoped it would come out once it smelled the fish but, considering the levels of intelligence it had shown, he didn't have much faith that the tactic would work from the start.

His breath left him in a huff as the shield got caught and, unable to react in time, he collided with it. Ducking underneath the small gap, he tried to pull it from its wedged position in between two boulders. It stayed stuck, holding true with stubborn intentions. It wouldn't come loose unless burnt to ash or rotted away.

Shivering despite the sunlight, Hiccup picked up the fish and carried it by its gills. As much as he'd love to hold it, he didn't want to accidentally shred it with his claws, and he already had enough scales covering his body. They'd stopped spreading once he'd gotten the fish and headed towards the cove, even to the point of receding slightly. Instead of being at his elbow, they were now only halfway up his forearm.

Stepping into the open, Hiccup kept a wary eye out as he turned his head, trying to find a glimmer of the Night Fury's black frame. He could hear, up in the trees, the sound of small birds cawing, and the underbrush rustling with small pray.

Behind him, he heard a skitter of something against the rock, and he turned on his heel, nearly choking on air as the Night Fury remained crouched atop its rock. The buzzing hit him like a drunken Viking's swing, nearly throwing him off his feet at the sudden change. Like water, the dragon practically curled over the rock and made its way to the ground, pupils round as its gaze locked onto the cod, nose raised as it sniffed the air. _"Come back to taunt me, have you? Where's the rest of your nest, hiding above the ridge? Or have you come here to finish what you started."_

With a slight tremor, Hiccup held out the cod, as if it were an olive branch. With more confidence than he felt, he calmly spoke to the deadliest dragon known to man. "I've come to make a deal. I give you the fish, you give me information."

The Night Fury slunk closer, its mouth parting slightly to accept the offered food. Hiccup stretched out his arm, only to jerk it back as the dragon's pupils slimmed and it let out a thunderous growl. _"The day I trust an armed horn_ less _head is the day I become a Small Snap."_

Hiccup glanced down at his vest, seeing that his knife had fallen into the sunlight and glinted, giving it away. It wasn't like he intended to use it, preferring instead that he and the Night Fury _talk_ instead of duel. Still, he reached for the knife with slow, obvious movements and picked it up by the pommel with his thumb and pointer finger before dropping it. The Night Fury shook its head to the side, towards the pond, and Hiccup managed to pick it up with his shoe before kicking it into the shallow pond.

The moment the knife hit the water, the Night Fury's tense muscles slackened, and it sat up proudly, gazing at Hiccup with open curiosity. It slunk closer, stopping only a few inches away from Hiccup's outstretched hand, showing off its toothless gums.

"Huh, could've sworn you had—" With a wet _shlick_ , the Night Fury's teeth pushed out of its gums. It lunged forward and Hiccup just barely jerked his hand back to avoid his fingers being bitten off. Tilting its head back, the Night Fury bit into the fish a few times before swallowing it whole, jerking its head back to stare at Hiccup unblinkingly, licking its lips. "…teeth."

Its eyes narrowed as it fell onto its front legs, approaching Hiccup with narrowed pupils and stony silence. He stumbled back and, embarrassingly, tripped over his own two feet. "H-Hey, we had a deal! We had—" Hiccup's back met a moss-covered boulder, and the Night Fury was practically smothering him. "I-I don't have any more."

The dragon refused to speak. Then, as if breaking from a trance, its eyes rolled up with a series of odd hiccupping sounds, and the tail end of the cod was regurgitated into Hiccup's lap. Satisfied, it grumbled and leaned back, sitting on its hind legs with its back straight in the air, its tail helping it keep balance. When the silence stretched out too long for its tastes, it spoke again. _"For you."_

"Uh… for me?"

 _"It's… a custom, I guess. When a dragon hunts for another, they just bring it back up for the other to eat. 'sides, you look hungry."_

He let out a nervous laugh. "Uh, as much as I… _love_ cod, I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

 _"Why?"_

"Well, uh, humans can't eat raw stuff. If I do, I'll get sick."

 _"You can eat it. You're a rider."_

Hiccup's eyes narrowed. "And how do I know I can trust you?"

 _"I don't know. How did you know I wouldn't kill you once you came down here, especially considering how we left off last time?"_

Hiccup opened his mouth to reply, only to huff and look away. Resigning to his fate, he curled his lip and bit into the fish, fighting his gag reflex and he chewed it. He didn't like cod to begin with, and feeling the fish's blood and scales coat his mouth didn't help. Still, he managed to swallow it, and he shuddered as he felt it travel down his throat and into his stomach. Still, he looked up at the Night Fury and nervously smiled.

The dragon's eyes narrowed, and it tilted its head. _"What… what are you doing?"_

"What?"

 _"That… thing, with your mouth. What is that?"_

"You don't know what a smile is?"

 _"No?"_

"It's a thing humans do. It means that we're happy, see?" Hiccup smiled again, and the Night Fury leaned a bit closer. Slowly, as if struggling to do so, it pulled its lips back and gave a toothless smile, a small, purr-like rumble leaving its throat.

Eyes wide, Hiccup pushed himself to his feet and reached out, hand a fair distance away from the dragon's snout as its smile became filled with teeth, and the rumble turned into a growl. In a flash, the Night Fury took flight across the pond, barely falling into an acceptable crash as it touched down to the ground. "Hey, where are you going?"

 _"Away from you."_

Grumbling, Hiccup began to walk around the pond towards the dragon, who'd taken its time to burn a section of the ground with a concentrated blast to make a hot bed for itself. "But you took the fish!"

 _"Exactly. You gave me_ a _fish._ _I'll survive another minute down here, whoop-de-doo."_ Settling onto its self-made bed, it curled tightly and purposefully turned away from Hiccup. _"How brave and heroic of you."_

"Look _,"_ Hiccup said, now on the other side of the cove, but staying an acceptable distance away from the Night Fury. He sat down and crossed his knees, trying to appear even more non-threatening. "Whatever you did to me, can you just… undo it? I didn't sign up for having any of this weird stuff happen to me, and I prefer it not continue to happen."

 _"Yeah? Well, I didn't sign up for my tail being ripped to shreds and not being able to fly, or being trapped in a cove where I will eventually starve to death because there are_ maybe _two fish in that entire pond, and if I blast a bird, it'll be as good as ash."_ The Night Fury pulled the end of its tail in front of its face and spread out its tail fins. _"Life sucks. Not everything good will happen to you. Get used to it."_

Staying as silent as he could, Hiccup inched closer, scooting on his hands and knees as he came closer to the Night Fury's tail, reaching out to examine it further. Quick as lightning, the dragon's tail lifted up to reveal its slightly ticked-off expression. _"Are you_ trying _to get blasted?"_

"Right—right! Sorry, I'll just…" Hiccup stood and turned away, walking stiffly towards a sunny patch of the cove. "Go over here, now."

Huffing, the Night Fury also moved, and Hiccup watched from afar as it eyed a root that had grown out from the trunk, acting as a small overpass of sorts. With a determined growl, it jumped up onto the rock wall and then pushed off, managing to snag its claws into it. Its tail wrapped around the thickest part and it let go, hanging from the branch just by its tail as it prepared for a nap. The buzz slowly but surely receded until it fell out completely, and he tilted his head, wondering how it would be comfortable to sleep hanging upside down.

Sighing, he tried to stay in the fading sunlight as well as he could as dusk approached. Scavenging around the edge of the cove by the walls, he found a decently sized stick and went back to his stone, propping his head with his hand as he made random scribbles in the loose dirt. Eventually, he got a small glimmer of inspiration, and he rubbed some out with the tip of his boot as the Night Fury's head began to take shape.

A curious huff came from over his shoulder, and he startled slightly, the buzzing appearing again. Cursing his ability to be easily snuck up on, he focused solely on getting the dragon's eyes right, only breathing shallowly in case it wanted to blast him.

 _"What are you doing?_ "

"I'm drawing."

 _"Another human thing?"_

"Yeah, you make lines in the dirt and make a picture."

 _"Why?"_

"Well… I'm the only one that really _does it_ , but it's in case I want to build something, or remember a place I went to, or if I have an idea. It does a lot of things."

 _"But you're the only one that cares?"_

"I guess so. I don't know if anyone else does, especially because they'd rather fight than build things, but I definitely do."

The Night Fury hummed and then hobbled away. There was a stretch of silence, then a great clatter of snapping wood and rustling leaves. Hiccup abandoned his drawing to look over his shoulder, eyes widening as he saw the Night Fury approach with an uprooted sapling in its mouth, dragging one of the ends through the ground and making wide, deep lines. Though one of the branches hit the back of his head, he watched in awe as the dragon spun and twirled, but left Hiccup's spot alone, preserving its portrait.

It proudly made a final dot in the earth, then turned around with a proud grin. _"There! How'd I do?"_

Standing, Hiccup looked around, trying to see what the Night Fury had drawn. "Well, it's very-"

It growled, lips pulling back to expose rows of sharp teeth. Hiccup jumped back, ready to bolt, only for the dragon to relax and fall back into a purr. _"You stepped on it."_

"I… what?"

 _"My drawing."_ The Night Fury explained as if it were obvious, gaze flicking to the ground. _"You stepped on it."_

Hiccup looked down, seeing that he had, in fact, stepped on one of the lines in the massive scribble. With a slight smirk, Hiccup placed his foot back down onto the line.

On cue, the Night Fury growled, lowering its body to the ground only to stop and fall into a gentle croon once he lifted his foot. Repeating the process, Hiccup smiled as the Night Fury grumbled. _"My patience is wearing thin, hornless-head."_

"Calm down, I'm not going to ruin it." This time, Hiccup stepped over the line, into an open spot to the Night Fury's pleasure. An idea came to the boy and, looking at the ground, he began to spin, traversing the scribble in an odd form of dance. He spun, checking his feet and looking over his shoulders to ensure his next step would land in safe territory, his vision blurring as he moved faster and faster-

A warm huff of air hit the back of his head, a shiver running down his spine. Turning, Hiccup met the Night Fury's gaze, both parties eerily calm. "Hey."

"Hello." Hiccup straightened and reached out again. While the Night Fury didn't immediately hiss and flee, it did wince and show its teeth. "Don't…"

He pulled his hand back a bit. Then, with justified trepidation, Hiccup hung his head, turned so that he was directly facing the dragon, and closed his eyes, leaving his hand outstretched but, otherwise, not moving. He held his breath, eyes flicking behind his eyelids, fingers both tense and yet, lax, waiting.

It wasn't a shock for Hiccup when he felt the Night Fury press its snout against his palm, but the sudden rush of _something_ nearly made him collapse. Powerless to try and stop it, it pushed through and swarmed him, flooding him with emotions, everything the Night Fury was feeling transferred to him. He could feel the dragon's wounded pride, crushing hunger, elation at new knowledge, the undercurrent of fear—fear of what?

He opened his eyes and looked at the dragon—serene on the surface, but suppressing his suffering—as it, no, _he_ severed the bond. He snorted and shook his head, calling behind him as he darted away. "Bring more fish next time!"

Still reeling from the influx of emotions, Hiccup went into autopilot as he clambered up the smooth rock wall, mulling over what the Night Fury had said.

More fish.

 _Next time._

Looking down at his palm, Hiccup squinted as he recalled the pins-and-needles sensation from before, watching as the scales gently pushed through his skin. There was no blood, no pain, just a vaguely uncomfortable feeling before that, too, faded into just a memory.

And he decided that, yeah, he could get more fish for next time.

* * *

"There ye are!" Hiccup gasped as he was yanked up by his vest, Gobber's self-made rotisserie hand piercing through the thick hide and hefting the smaller boy into the air. "Ye ran b'fore I could tell ye. We're havin' a group bonfire atop the old catapult tower ta eat some dinner. Most of them are probably there already."

Hiccup growled, weakly kicking as he was carried through the village. "Could I at least, y'know, walk there myself?" The older man hummed then, teasingly, hefted the boy higher. "Gobber!"

He chuckled and put him down, ruffling his hair as he went. "Relax, I won't subject ye ta that. In all fairness, though, what happened in the ring today could've ended much worse. I think Astrid might've gone a _lil'_ bit overboard."

"You think?" Huffing, he kicked a stray pebble and kept his eyes downcast, nearly tripping in the darkness. Sunset was still fading, so the torches hadn't been lit yet and the moon had yet to shine down upon the village. "I mean, she didn't even give me time to get the shield off. I get that the war is happening around us, I _know_ that, but I don't even know if I'm going to be a warrior or not."

"Thinkin' of becomin' a smithy?" Gobber slung his arm around Hiccup's shoulders, an easy feat considering that he didn't have a broad frame. "Don't take this as me dismissin' yer hopes, but I do believe you'd be better in the forge than on the front lines. Even if yer inventions don't always work the way that you want them to, ye've always been better than me at building and repairin' weapons."

They fell into a comfortable silence, mainly because Hiccup was still mulling over the events that had happened earlier in the cove, as well as his apparent lack of humanity. He'd refused to think about it, shoving it back in favor of focusing on what was happening in front of him. Building things and working tirelessly in the forge helped him shove those thoughts away, but when given a moment to himself…

Well, his thoughts tended to wander, and they often went in a negative direction. Thinking about the scales that he could summon and banish with a single thought, as well as the still lingering comprehension of dragons didn't put him at ease. And, considering that the Night Fury wasn't going to tell him anything anytime soon, he'd be stuck in this gray area for who knows how long.

Well, hopefully not long enough for the entire village to find out.

The old catapult tower was exactly what it sounded like. It was consistently the only catapult the dragons couldn't _directly_ hit, but that was because it had broken down long before Hiccup was born. Some of the older Vikings told stories about how many dragons it had struck down in its glory days, but now it was simply a resting spot that the villagers rarely ever went to except for small, personal events. Or, in Hiccup's case, watch the sunset from a good vantage point.

Some of the wooden logs were water damaged, and it was bound to collapse at some point, but it was still standing strong. The only reason why they hadn't destroyed it by now was that some were still banking on the dragons seeing it and aiming to destroy it, thus diverting their attention.

And the other reason was that they simply didn't want to do it. It takes a fair amount of man power to demolish a catapult, and since most of it couldn't be put into a new catapult, or even a building, Stoick considered it unimportant, and so it was left to rot away overtime.

Apparently, the lack of infrastructure didn't deter Gobber from holding what amounted to a dinner party on it. Like he said, the twins, Snoutlout, Fishlegs, and Astrid were all up there, cooking their selections over a crackling bonfire. Gobber pushed ahead, stabbing an entire plucked chicken onto his arm and holding it over the fire. Grimacing slightly, Hiccup took the last of the proffered food, a measly fish that was barely enough to feed a newborn baby.

Still, he held it out over the fire, tuning out Gobber as he began weaving tales that he'd heard several times over. Sure, they were interesting so long as you haven't heard them day after day, from when you were five to fifteen. He didn't feel all that good, but he couldn't tell if it was because he'd eaten the raw fish earlier, or if it was thinking about what he was in relation to the village.

"…and with one twist, he took my hand and swallowed it whole. And I saw the look on his face." With a snotty tone, Gobber lifted his chin and looked over the recruits. "I was delicious. He must have passed the word, because it wasn't a month before another one of them took my leg."

Hiccup rolled his eyes and turned the fish over. Maybe he was feeling sick over hearing Gobber's dramatized tales. From what his dad had said, it wasn't anything as dramatic, and was instead more traumatic for everyone involved. Sure, nowadays Gobber was the village's blacksmith and was a great friend, but when he'd lost his limbs, it was like he'd lost more than just an arm and a leg. Losing one after another hadn't improved his situation, though it was clear now that he was somewhat proud of his interchangeable limbs.

"Isn't it weird to think that your hand was inside a dragon? Like, if your mind was still in control of it, you could have killed the dragon from the inside by crushing his heart or something." Most of the teens gave Fishlegs an odd look, with Hiccup screwing his face up in irritation. Really, the only thing keeping him from being bullied was showing a distaste for Hiccup.

"I swear I'm so _angry_ right now!" Snotlout growled, waving his own, smaller cooked chicken around. "I'll avenge your beautiful hand _and_ your beautiful foot. I'll chop off the legs of every dragon I fight, with my _face_."

 _Truly a smart idea._ Hiccup thought, pressing his lips together as he watched the fish become charred over the flames. His mentor figure took a bite from his chicken while making a negative sound. "It's the wings an' tails ye really want. If it can't fly, it can't get away. A _downed_ dragon is a _dead_ dragon."

Hiccup let out a tiny gasp, schooling his face to and keeping a neutral expression. That's what he meant by starving to death, and that's what the undercurrent of fear was. Most of the dragons Hiccup had seen didn't need their tails in order to achieve flight, though it did help them steer. For the Night Fury, it must've been a necessity in order to get more than twenty feet off the ground, and considering that the cove had smooth walls with no grip, and there weren't any connections to the ocean that he could swim out of…

He was as good as dead.

Gobber stood and stretched, yawning as he did so. "Alright. Training tomorrow starts at noon, as I still need ta clean up the arena and get it set up for the next lesson. Still, rest up. We get into the big boys tomorrow, slowly but surely making our way up to the Monstrous Nightmare. _But_ , who'll win the honor of killing it?"

Using his smaller frame and the other's lack of attention to his advantage, Hiccup put down his charred fish and began to run down the curving staircase, mind sharp and on a mission.

He didn't notice the inquisitive Astrid at the top of the stairs, watching him flee with clear confusion on her face.

* * *

The heat from the forge rose in intensity, Hiccup's skin already having a layer of sweat from running down to the forge. Undeterred, he took out his sketchbook, leaving it open on a table far away enough from the flames to keep it from lighting, but close enough so that he could see his designed plan.

He had gotten a good look at the Night Fury's tail, enough to see the thin bones that allowed the leather-y fins to spread and retract. In theory, it wasn't hard to make: a metal rod to act as the main body, with three smaller rods to be connected so they pulled in tandem. This would then be stitched together with leather so that it could create the necessary strength and resistance for turns.

In short, he needed to make it just the right weight so that the Night Fury wouldn't be unbalanced. It could keep its tailfins as close together as he wanted, but it didn't change the fact that his right side was heavier than his left.

Stealing bolts and small metal balls from the battered shields and weapons was easy enough. Gobber was planning on re-using certain parts to make new tools anyways, and the rest would be scrapped. Leather work was something he'd done since he was six, one of the first things Gobber let him touch in the forge, and it was easy to take measurements and stitch them over the rods. Before the dawn sun could even rise, the prototype tailfin was completed. He compared it to the sketch he'd made and pinned onto the wall, a night's work well spent.

Now it was a matter of closing up the shop, getting some well-deserved rest, hiding the tail fin from prying Viking eyes, and getting more fish for the Night Fury.

Sighing, Hiccup carefully placed the tailfin into a basket he'd gotten for the fist, planning on carrying it there in the morning. His tasks were easier said than done, but he'd finish them.

He had to.

* * *

 **AN:** Oh shit, I nearly forgot to update today! Sorry for the late update, but I've been sick for the past week, and I most definitely will not have an update done by next week. I forgot that I had this chapter 'in reserves' so to speak, but because of my body betraying me, plus a bunch of pressure to get school work done on time and stay up to date, I haven't been able to write as much as I want to. Regardless, hope you guys enjoy the new chapter!

 _ **EDIT 2/12/17:**_ NOT an update it's just that I realized that I never put in a journal update and that was an unintentional thing that I forgot to write haHA! There will be an actual, full chapter update next week though (with a journal excerpt included).


	7. Chapter 6: Bound Freedom

**Chapter 6: Bound Freedom**

 _(Excerpt translated by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III)_

 _I've tried flying a few times, in the past. They were brief, and clumsy, and panic-filled, but they were all exhilarating. Flying contains such a sense of freedom, something that can never be achieved by the close-minded Vikings. In a way, I feel superior: I have seen heights and enjoyed pleasures that no normal man or woman would ever be able to enjoy._

 _In another, I feel crushing sorrow. I am the only Viking of Berk who will every truly enjoy flight, and put aside my fears of falling and put total trust in a pair of flimsy wings. It is a feeling of exhilaration, and it is the only form of trust that I can fall into easily, no additional strings attached._

* * *

Even if Hiccup could eat raw fish, he quickly decided that he hated the feeling of scales all over his hands, plus, the stench was awful. The large basket on his back held the hefty weight of the fisherman's morning catch, but he was also carrying the weight of the large tail prosthetic, both heavy of their own right. The early morning light filtered through the tree tops, he would have a few hours before he would have to hurry back to the village.

More than enough time to bring the dragon breakfast, try to fit the prosthetic, and then go to training.

Climbing down the rock walls without injuring himself, breaking the tailfin, or the basket was a challenge. Still, he managed, though he did fall down the last few feet. Dusting himself off, he walked to the center of the cave, slinging the basket onto the ground. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he heard the Night Fury round the pool of water, an excited croon leaving his mouth. _"Hornless-head! Did you bring more fish?"_

"Okay, first of all, my name is not Hornless-head, it's Hiccup. If you keep calling me that, I'm going to give you and equally embarrassing nickname." He teased as he twisted and threw the large basket of fish onto the ground, its contents spilling out onto the ground. "And second of all, yes. I brought you breakfast."

Less concerned about Hiccup's 'threats', the Night Fury instead licked its lips and began to sniff the pile of fish, rooting through it to see what he'd been brought. "Right, well, we've uh… we've got some salmon, some nice Icelandic cod, and a whole smoked eel."

The Night Fury froze, then pulled away with a low growl. Assuming that he was simply picky, Hiccup bent down and grabbed the eel, pulling it out of the pile, holding it up for inspection.

The effect was instantaneous. Rearing back, the Night Fury spread its wings and showed its teeth, green gas building in its mouth as it roared. _"Get that ill-begotten, scummy, disgusting mockery of_ food _away from me!"_

"Whoa, whoa, it's okay!" Hiccup quickly tossed it to the side, away from the remainder of his food and held out his hand to try and placate the Night Fury. "Yeah, I don't like eel much either."

He huffed and went back to inspecting his meal, talking around his fish as he spoke. _"Be glad I hadn't blindly eaten the whole pile. Eels are a type of poison to us. Depending on the dragon, it can be a mild irritation or so deadly you could choke to death."_

"Oh. So, uh…" Hiccup continued as he began to tip-toe around the engaged dragon, towards his tail. "Which one are you?"

 _"_ Us, _hornless-head. And its… somewhat of a mix. Touching the damn thing is fine, our scales will get a minor rash that disappears in less than a day, but eating it is what will kill us. Your hand will probably break out soon."_

"Great…" Hiccup, at that point, had reached his tail. Forgoing the conversation and letting the dragon enjoy his meal, he kneeled down and pushed the prosthetic tailfin closer to the remaining original half, sizing it up for comparison.

Before he could get an accurate read, the tail had moved. Narrowing his eyes, he moved again, only for the tail to twitch away once more. Huffing, Hiccup tried to pin it down, only for the Night fury to pull forward and yank him uncomfortably. Restraining a surprised yelp and resorting to desperate measures, he straddled the tail, facing away from the Night Fury, and quickly strapped the lower leather buckle to his tail. He then cinched for the second strap, smiling victoriously as it stayed put and allowed him to eye up his measurements.

Unfurling the fin to match the left one, he couldn't help but feel somewhat proud. He'd created a scale replica of the fin from memory on his first try. As far as he could tell, it didn't need any changes in size, and the leather straps were holding nicely, not letting it budge but not digging into the tail uncomfortably. "It's not too bad, it'll work—"

And then he was unceremoniously pulled again as the Night Fury moved. He yelped, ready to bite his lips and have to readjust himself to see if his tailfin worked, but the ground kept moving further and further away, the sound of beating wings and his own blood filling his ears as he realized what had happened. His skin prickled as scales erupted across his whole body, and a more logical, detached section of his brain filed away the information for later examination as he screamed. His fingernails sharpened into claws as he held on for dear life, knowing that if he let go of the tail, he'd be dropped and end up completely flattened. He'd seen what happened to dropped sheep during the raids, a messy pulp that _used_ to be an animal, unrecognizable from its former glory.

After everything he'd been through in the past week alone, he'd like to not be reduced to an unrecognizable lump.

Then the worst thing possible happened: the dragon began to bank and dive, like it had all those times before. Unable to correct his trajectory or catch any wind, he screamed out another plea. _"Goddess damn it,_ please _!"_

Terrified and, admittedly, somewhat excited, Hiccup reached for the prosthetic and yanked it out so it was fully stretched. The bank changed from an uncontrolled dive to an elegant curve as the Night Fury shot directly upwards. The cove shrank beneath them, wind whistling and whispering of freedom that couldn't be matched by any ship, any cliff, any escape.

This was freedom in its rawest form. Literally clinging to life and being able to control what he needed to keep himself safe, it was something Hiccup had been denied all his life. Everything had been twisted around him, forced upon him by name and by nature, but now…

Right now, in this isolated moment, that didn't matter. Nothing could ever hope to reach him up here. His back burned in the sunlight, straining under gravity and his own stress to keep the tailfin stretched, but it felt amazing. It assured him that this was real, and that he was alive. Laughing incredulously, Hiccup pulled the tailfin to the left, watching as the Night Fury turned as well and began to dive back to the cove. "It's working!"

Wings spread, they flew just over the water, and Hiccup stared down at his scaled reflection with utter glee. "Yes! Yes, I did it!"

And then the dragon ruined the moment.

 _"Get off of me, Hornless-head!"_ Hiccup's grip was wrenched away as the Night Fury made a sharp turn, the force throwing him off as he skipped on the water before fully submerging. Though he couldn't see as well, he smiled as he heard the panicked screech of the Night Fury and an unmistakable splash as he fell into the very same body of water. Served him right!

Smiling, Hiccup swam to the surface, his skin tingling as the scales receded. He met the very annoyed gaze of the Night Fury and raised his hands into the air, letting out a quick cheer. "Yeah!"

* * *

The double doors restraining the Hideous Zippleback exploded outwards, a wave of pale green gas filling the arena with steadfast speed. The teens, all equipped with buckets of water, backed away, split into the groups that Gobber had assigned them before sending them into the arena with little less than a warning. To Hiccup's immense relief, he was paired up with Fishlegs. Any other day, he would've been slightly annoyed that he was unable to work alone, but considering he could've easily gotten Snotlout if Gobber was feeling cruel, he'd take the bulky teen.

"Today is about teamwork." Gobber spoke as he made his way to the edge of the arena, eyeing the girls and the troublesome duo of Snotlout and Tuffnut. "Work together and you _might_ survive."

 _"New prey."_ Hiccup shivered as the hissing voices rang through the gas. He knew that for everyone else, it only sounded like low hisses and restrained growls, but being able to understand dragons made this lesson awful. _"New meat. New screams. New fun."_

"Now, a wet dragon head can't light its fire." The teens, though they were concerned about the deadly dragon potentially behind them, did their best to listen to Gobber. "The Hideous Zippleback is extra tricky. One head breathes gas, the other head lights it. Your job is to know which is which."

Fishlegs was not making listening for the dragon any easier. His panicked whispers, combined with the fact that he was directly next to him, set Hiccup on edge. It didn't help that he was whispering dragon facts that were just as disturbing as they were unnecessary. "…Razor sharp, serrated teeth that inject venom for pre-digestion. Prefers ambush attack, crushing its victims in its—"

"Would you _please_ stop that!" Hiccup whisper-shouted, his scales popping up on his cheeks and neck. His fingers and palm itched, the allergic reaction the Night Fury had mentioned before picking the worst time to attack. He did his best to calm himself, knowing that so long as he wasn't too overly anxious, they'd disappear. He hadn't figured out how to keep them at bay even when scared, but at this rate he'd have no choice but to force it away in order to avoid someone discovering what had happened to him.

Startled screams rang out from somewhere else in the arena, making the both of them jump. Tuffnut's voice rang out through the gas (which, to Hiccup's delight, was starting to dissipate). "Your butts are getting bigger, we thought you were a dragon."

Hiccup rolled his eyes as Fishlegs jumped again, the sound of thrown buckets filling the air. It was easy to imagine what had happened, but he was more preoccupied for trying to figure out where the Zippleback had gone. Sure, he could hear the twin hissing voices just fine, but they were incredibly faint, just loud enough to hear what they were saying and nowhere near enough to read a location.

Walking through the fading gas, he and Fishlegs finally came upon the scene of the crime. Puddles of water were spilt around the arena floor, and Astrid and Ruffnut had been thoroughly soaked. Snotlout stood beside them, watching as a thick patch of gas burst, and Tuffnut was thrown out. Scrabbling on his legs, he ran for the arena's exit, screaming as he went. "Oh, I'm _hurt!_ I am very much hurt!"

Hiccup glared, not seeing any bruises or smelling any blood as the teen fled and blocking out Fishlegs' panicked whisper. He was fine—probably just scared—but considering that he'd just ran into one of the deadliest dragons Berk had to offer, he couldn't blame him for running.

 _"He was_ fun _."_ Growled one of the heads, pushing out of the smoke. _"Can any of them—make just as pretty screams?"_ Hiccup's eyes widened as he watched the girls back up, and he realized why the same second Fishlegs did. The girls had wasted their buckets attacking Snotlout and Tuffnut, and the boys had thrown their water at the girls when they mistook them for the Zippleback.

Which meant they were the only two left that could soak the dragon's head. The two worst students in the whole class, and they were given probably the deadliest task they'd had yet.

This wasn't going to end well.

The visible head slunk closer to Fishlegs, the water in his bucket splashing precariously as he backed away. As it rose, a curious trill in its throat, he tossed it directly on the head. Its pupils narrowed, and it opened its jaws, gas building on its tongue. _"I did not need a bath, Horn-head."_

"Oh…" Fishlegs chuckled. "Wrong head."

A stream shot from the dragon's mouth, the smell covering Fishlegs and getting into his eyes, causing him to blindly flee. Hiccup swallowed as the second head appeared, doing his best to repress his panic and keep his scales hidden. Without the cover of the gas and with most of the class watching him, he'd be tied to a pike and set off to sea within seconds.

The second head darted forward, drawing close to Hiccup's neck and making him jump. Sparks jumped from its teeth, nearly reaching the gas before fizzling out. Gobber's shout of "Now, Hiccup!" made his heart sink: he was the only one left with a filled bucket. With as much strength as he could muster, he grabbed the bucket by its base and swung his arms up—

And felt the splinter-covered wood dig into his rash-coated palm, the itch making his arm weak and the water fall just short of the head. Defeated, he looked at the puddle, and the head that dipped down to examine him, with lackluster zeal. "Oh, come _on."_

The dragon lunged forward, wings flaring as it screeched, ready to take the easy kill. _"We will take what's ours."_ Hissed the head before the second one took over the conversation. _"Freedom in our wings_ — _fish in our mouths_ — _we will make you pay."_ Hissed the one on his left, sparks flying with every word.

Freedom, huh?

Hiccup knew now what that word really meant, what this dragon really wanted. It wanted to fly, fly far away from the horrors the Vikings had brought upon it, and go home. He'd seen it this morning with the Night Fury, the prosthetic hidden away in the forge before the lesson had begun. He'd seen it as his differences were not rejected, but accepted by the dragon. He'd experienced it when he soared above the treetops, skimming along the water.

He knew what the Zippleback wanted.

But right now, wants were shoved to the side. He needed what he needed, and that was to survive.

Clambering to his feet, Hiccup let his panic manifest through his palms, midnight black scales coating his skin and threatening to wrap around his fingers to form claws. Pupils constricting into slits and eyes widening, the Zippleback backed away, panicked hisses leaving its mouths. _"He_ is _a rider! The Shine Scales—and the Cruncher—did not speak of lies. He is a rider to a Dark Shot! Goddess save us!"_

"Back, back, _back!_ Now don't you make me tell you again!" Hiccup shouted as it retreated into its cage, and he darted for the large, heavy doors, pulling them closed. His eyes burned for a moment, and when he opened them, the Zippleback screeched in terror. He could feel his pupils constricting, almost like he was squinting except… not. "Now think about what you've done."

Slamming the doors closed, he breathed deeply as he felt the changes pull away. The scales vanished and, with a slight wince, he felt his eyes change as well. It felt awkward and strange; the sensation made his eyes water, but it had done the job of successfully scaring the dragon into hiding. Turning around, he prepared to meet the suspicious gaze of the other teens and be subjugated to endless, accusatory questions.

Instead, he saw their wide eyes and slack jaws as they stared at him. Fishlegs, who still held the bucket, now let it fall from his loose grip and clatter the floor. Blushing, Hiccup fiddled with his sleeve and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Okay! So are we done? Because I've got some things I need to..."

No response. They stayed in shock, but they did stir at the familiar, rambling monologues that Hiccup was known for. Jumping into action, Hiccup darted past the teens and up to the cage doors leading to the village. "Yep, see you tomorrow!"

Back in the arena, Gobber slowly moved towards the cage doors and lowered the lever, the heavy wooden log locking the Zippleback in. Snotlout roused first, his voice quiet and slightly awed. "What… just happened?"

Astrid sneered, clenching her fists and turning to the exit. "I don't know, but I intend to find out."

* * *

 **AN:** Holy shit, this chapter took forever to write. You want to know why I got hung up on this one? The entire flying scene with Hiccup and Toothless in the beginning. That scene is _so much better_ in a visual format, not a written one. It became even worse when I realized that it was going to be seen only through Hiccup's gaze, and not with an omniscient perspective, and Toothless' reactions wouldn't really be explored as in depth.

For those wondering (as I won't really touch on it within the story), my reasoning for Toothless throwing Hiccup off was that he though he could fly on his own again, and didn't need him to leave the cove. So, he throws him off with the belief that he can leave, only to plummet, thus him being annoyed. I didn't want to add an aftermath to that scene, as it felt better just ending it with Hiccup's little victory cheer and going immediately into the training session. If I continued, I felt like I would be rambling. Plus, _I just wanted to get that scene over with already I was stuck on it for two god damn weeks._

But yeah! Thank you all for understanding my break and not demanding that I push out a chapter. I have another chapter already done and at least two that I've divided up and ready to write. My block has disappeared, and I'm ready and raring to go! Thank you all for reading!


	8. Chapter 7: Defying Status Quo

**Chapter 7: Defying Status Quo**

 _(Excerpt translated by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III)_

 _Sometimes, I lay in my bed at night and wonder what my life would have been like if I was not a Rider._

 _Would I have fallen for Stoick? Would I be terrified for my bab's life? Would I defend the dragons to the best of my ability? Would I be searching for an end to the war, to this curse, with peace in mind?_

 _As I sit here, my little Hiccup is wrapped in a bundle from one of the housewives, he coos and cuddles into my bosom with innocent glee. His eyes shine inquisitively, and I feel something like joy well up in my heart._

 _And I rest assured that yes, I would be just as stubborn and loyal to my ways._

* * *

Her axe soared through the air, the blade sinking into a tree in the small clearing she'd discovered years ago, with a satisfying _thunk._ She wrenched it out and turned, throwing it again and watching the sunlight glint off the shined and sharpened metal before splitting into the trunk.

 _Thunk._ It gleamed in the afternoon light that filtered through the evergreen's branches, the trunk disappearing as she saw her axe wedged between the eyes of a Deadly Nadder.

 _Thunk._ The blade was crooked, a deliberate twist on her vertical throws, but it stuck true. In her mind, a Gronkle gurgled as it sunk into its throat, viscous blood pooling around and staining her treasured weapon red.

 _Thunk._ This time, splinters flew from the relatively younger tree. She could envision herself standing in the arena, crowds cheering in the stands above her, as she faced off against the Monstrous Nightmare. The flames coating its skin would fly in every direction as her axe sliced through its wings, its warm blood heating her axe as she went for the throat. That was her destiny: killing the dragon in the arena and wowing her peers, reclaiming her family's honor after her Uncle Finn's death.

Grunting, she wrenched the axe out once again, doing an about face and tumbling into a controlled roll. She hopped to her feet, one hand outstretched to keep her balance, the other raising the axe over her shoulder, tense and ready to throw.

She met the panicked gaze of Hiccup.

He'd become nothing short of an anomaly over the past week. From the worst excuse of a Viking— probably shoved into training by the chief in the vague hopes that something positive would happen—to best in the class, drawing crowds by the tens. He could make dragons collapse to the ground in pure submission with only a flick of his wrist, drawing them back into their cages with delicate ease that defied everything they were taught. His 'skills' had enraptured the rest of the teens, and most of the adults. They all clamored with delight, no one had done such things with the dragons, or seen them submit so easily! The boy must've had a real talent.

Tuffnut's words from a training session with a Terrible Terror rang in her mind. "He's better than you ever were."

Astrid would be lying if she said she hadn't considered throwing the axe, right then and there. They were the only two who even dared go out this far into the woods, and there were no witnesses to tell the chief what she'd done.

But then her gaze latched onto the _entirety_ of Hiccup, and not just his stupid, freckle-covered face. He lacked his usual fur vest, instead wearing two leather straps that crossed over his chest, like a harness. In his hands was an oddly shaped bundle of leather, which jingled with metal buckles. It was large enough to be bigger than Hiccup's torso, but too loose to be a high-quality, personalized duffel bag.

Lost in her examination, she almost missed Hiccup's shrug as he turned and began to jog away from her. Not one to abandon an opportunity, she followed close behind, her skirt making too much noise, in her opinion, as the metal skull accessories clinked against each other.

Hiccup turned, going around a large white bolder, but Astrid clambered atop it, hoping to ambush him and demand where he was going. As she looked around, she swore, not seeing any other signs of life besides herself and the birds cooing in the branches high above her.

Grumbling, she lowered herself and turned away. Hiccup was known for being fast, but so fast that he could disappear in the blink of an eye?

That was another 'anomaly' she'd have to mark on her list. He was accumulating to many for her tastes, and if he got in her way again…

Well, he wouldn't enjoy the consequences.

* * *

"For the record, _this—"_ Hiccup tugged on the safety cord that was currently stuck on Toothless' harness. "—is your fault."

 _"If anything, it's the_ wind's _fault_." Toothless rebutted, slinking behind Hiccup with care. It was suicidal to try and bring a big, hulking Night Fury through a village of Vikings that were Hel-bent on killing him, but they hadn't had much of a choice. _"Neither of us were expecting that strong a gust, or your harness getting stuck."_

Hiccup moved to counter, but fell silent as a night guard approached. Toothless backed as far away from the torch light as he could and pressed his dark wings close to his back, and Hiccup casually leaned against the building, hiding his harness and the cord. Despite the rushed cover up, the night guard simply gave a cordial greeting before continuing his patrol.

"I feel like there's an accusation in there, but I won't comment on it." Hiccup whispered once the cost was clear. He tugged on the cord and guided them through the village, most of the town dead asleep or away on the search. If there was one advantage to having most of the Vikings gone to try and find the nest, it was that there were much less drunkards wandering the streets that could alarm a guard that there was a dragon walking around.

 _"The accusation is that I'm being lead around like a hatchling."_ He grumbled, but his eyes were wide with curiosity. He examined the make of the houses with interest, eying certain tools and inventions with an interest that could rival Hiccup's. Caught up in his excitement, his tail swished and hit a bucket, which then hit a pile of wood, which then fell and made a clatter. When Hiccup turned to glare at him, Toothless hung his head. _"I know, I know, I'm sorry."_

Pressing his lips together, Hiccup mimicked Toothless' bitter tone. "Are you trying to get blasted?"

 _"Better question, are we at this 'Gobber's Forge' yet?"_

"We are literally right in front of it."

 _"Oh."_ The Rider huffed and led him into the workshop, Toothless twisting awkwardly to try and accommodate his wingspan and not get his tail caught in the door. Toothless looked around the forge, his lips curling in disgust at the many weapons that lined the walls. _"I don't like Gobber's Forge anymore."_

"Well, the only way we're fixing the harness is if we use the tools here." Hiccup replied, picking up sharp blades and small hammers with ease, examining them and trying to decide which one would be best to fix the problem. He didn't want to mangle the safety cord, but he also didn't want to beat it flat and have to remake the thing from scrap. He was pushing it with the materials he'd already smuggled behind Gobber's back, any more and the smithy might start asking questions.

To his relief, Toothless did his best to remain silent and not disturb the forge. The name 'Toothless' had come from his repeated use of calling him 'Hornless-head' after knowing his name. He'd taken it with a surprising amount of pride and accepted it easily, preferring it over 'dragon'. He'd never given Hiccup his real name, so Toothless had stuck.

Finding a tool that would work with doing the least amount of damage, he moved to Toothless' saddle and tried to pry the ring open just enough to release the safety cord.

"Hiccup?" His heart froze, and he desperately tried to pry the ring off, damn saving the materials. It didn't budge, staying stuck and forcing him and Toothless to stay within a few feet of each other. Any other situation, any other day, he wouldn't have minded it. But… "Are you in there?"

…Yeah there was no use in salvaging the ring.

 _"Who is that?"_ Toothless trilled, ear fins spread as he heard the light steps of someone approaching the smithy. _"Is it Gobber?"_

"Worse." Hiccup hissed, abandoning the ring as he pulled Toothless as close as he would dare to the shelved window they used to accept orders. If it were Gobber, he could just shout a quick hello and make up an excuse about some last-minute repairs on a busted spear that didn't require the forge's flame.

He vaulted over the counter, pushing the shutters open and slamming them closed behind him. He covered up Toothless' annoyed grumbles by spitting out a rapid stream of conversation at the shield maiden. "Astrid—hey! Hi Astrid. Hi Astrid, hi, _Astrid."_ Her eyes narrowed, the moon casting an ominous shadow on her face as they squared off

"I normally don't care what people do, but you're acting weird—" Hiccup grunted, the cord tugging him back forcefully, and he scrambled to cover up involuntary motion. Astrid pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. Hiccup thanked the gods that she didn't have her axe on hand. "Well, weird _er."_

He grunted again as the cord went taught, and then gave her a nervous smile as he was hoisted off his feet. The shutters groaned, and gave way momentarily, allowing his thin body to slip through and collide with Toothless' back. Hiccup barely had time to grab the rod necessary to pry the ring loose before he and Toothless were bounding out the back to the smithy and leaping into the air, Astrid none the wiser as she tried to find him.

"I'm going to skin you for every scale your worth!" Hiccup hissed and he continued to try and pry of the ring, safety the last thing on his mind. "What the _Hel_ were you thinking? You could've gotten us killed!"

 _"There was a sheep!"_

"You nearly got us killed for a sheep?"

 _"I'm hungry!"_

"Good gods, you are incredibly whinny today."

 _"Don't blame me, blame being stuck to you like a Double-back for more than three hours! Thank Goddess that's not how this whole relationship works, otherwise we'd have killed each other before you brought the first fish."_

Hiccup huffed, but it was in good fun. They reached the cove in a short amount of time, Toothless and him landing easily, especially since there weren't any harsh winds throwing them off. Given the time and room, the ring popped open with ease, and Hiccup immediately took off the safety cord and began to take off Toothless' saddle. "Alright, once I fix the ring, we should have a working tailfin that can be adjusted."

Toothless crooned, eyes wide and a happy, dopey smile coming across his face. _"When will we be able to test it out in an actual flight?"_

"If we're lucky, and I have enough time to sneak away, then tomorrow afternoon." Hiccup said as he lifted the saddle off of his friend's back. "Though I'll admit, I'm nervous."

 _"So am I."_ He admitted, walking away and torching the ground with his plasma blast to create a nice, warm bed for himself. _"But if we don't do it, then we'll never know if it can stand up to the high-speed flying my species are known for."_

Hiccup nodded, grabbing the saddle and gearing up for the trek back to his house. It was safer for him to hide the saddle in his house while his father wasn't home than in Gobber's workshop. When his father returned from searching for the nest, it was easy to say that the workshop was a much, _much_ safer hiding location.

 _"Will you try to fly soon?"_ Toothless' question made him stumble, turning a wide-eyed gaze to the Night Fury. _"You can create scales and claws just fine, but you haven't tried anything that needs precision and practice. You've been hyper-focused on helping me, and not learning anything yourself."_

Hiccup shrugged, somewhat avoiding the question. "I mean… you haven't even told me why you decided to do this to me. I've been helping you because you kind of threatened me with that whole—" Hiccup used his free hand to make air quotes. "'ripping your soul to shreds' thing and, well, I didn't want to leave you to die."

 _"But you seemed happy whenever we fly, wouldn't you be happier flying alone?"_

"Well… no." Hiccup yawned and leaned against one of the boulders. It would take two hours to make it back to his house if he walked, and with the saddle, he couldn't exactly run. He was already dreading the journey, since he hadn't found any shorter pathways. "You've got a better idea of what to do, and I like the companionship. It seems a little… daunting, flying alone."

Toothless nodded, settling down to rest. _"Understandable. Do you want to stay here for the night? You look exhausted, and you don't have to fix the saddle until tomorrow at the earliest."_

Hiccup nodded, putting the saddle onto the ground and waiting for Toothless to lift his wing, letting him press up close and share the warmth of the heated ground and the large, scaled dragon behind him. "Thanks, Toothless."

 _"Any time, Hornless-head."_

He giggled tiredly. "Are you _ever_ going to call me Hiccup?"

Toothless hummed and put his head down, shifting into a more comfortable position. _"Maybe."_

* * *

The sky was a deep blue, unmarred by clouds as the sun shined high above. A few seabirds cried high above, circling the sky in search of fish, or human food left unattended. The sea shone the same color, the waves gentle and kind to those traversing it.

The same kind, gentle words could not describe the returning ships.

Burned and bitten into bits, a lone ship pulled into the harbor, crammed to the brim with the returning Viking warriors. The sail was torn to shreds, a large hole burned through the insignia of the Hairy Hooligans. Once docked, the Vikings clambered off, some accepting hugs from family members, others sighing in defeat and moving to the Great Hall for a jug of mead.

"Wh… Where are the other ships?" Asked a woman, her stomach large and her mundr, a leather bracelet braided by her husband, tied tight around her wrist.

Spitelout growled a response as he left the ship. "You don't want to know."

The Vikings parted when Stoick disembarked, irritation clear on his face as he pushed through the crowd. Gobber, having cancelled the morning's training session, walked by his side. "Well, I trust you found the nest at least?"

The chief growled, grabbing a basket and bringing it under his arm. "Not even close."

"Ah, excellent." Gobber grabbed the duffel bag Stoick had brought off the ship. It probably contained some last items of the fallen who'd gone to Valhalla that they'd managed to grab. It was normally his job to help Stoick sort out through them and give them to loved ones, if there were any left alive, and it always hurt.

"I hope you had a little more success than me." Stoick grumbled.

"Well," Gobber hopped to catch up. "if by success, you mean that your parenting troubles are over with, then... yes."

Stoick stopped, eyes wide. Before he could ask, a small group of adult Vikings ran forward, either to greet him or make their way to the docks.

"Congratulations Stoick! Everyone is _so_ relieved."

"Out with the old and in with the new, right?"

"No one will miss that old nuisance!"

"The village is throwing a party to celebrate!"

Both, apparently, as they made their way to the surviving few on the docks. Stoick felt his heart ice over, dread settling in his stomach. He knew, he gods damned _knew,_ that it was suicidal to let Hiccup into dragon training, and what had happened? Exactly what he thought would.

He'd be one of the many praying to Valhalla tonight.

"He's..." He turned to Gobber, fists loose at his side but threatening to shake. First Valka, now Hiccup. "He's gone?"

Gobber had the gall to shrug casually, adjusting his grip on the duffel bag as he made his way towards the village. "Uh, yeah... most afternoons. But who can blame him? I mean the life of a celebrity is very rough. He can barely walk through the village without being swarmed by his new fans."

Still somewhat frozen, Stoick reached out and grabbed Gobber by his shoulder, spinning him around to look him in the eyes. He must've heard wrong, signals crossing, they couldn't all be talking about his son… could they? _"Hiccup?"_

His friend beamed, showing off his fake teeth. "Who would've thought, eh? He has this... _way_ with the beasts."

Stoick's eyes widened, following Gobber closely as he was lead through the village. He received positive news: no dragon raids, no Outcast attacks or sieges from other villages, and the teens were being systematically eliminated to decide who would kill the Nightmare. Fishlegs had been first, but he was still forced to watch and occasionally participate. Then Tuffnut, Ruffnut and Snotlout followed. The remaining two were, but surprising and expected, Hiccup and Astrid were the final two.

He followed in a state of shock, something like pride welling in his chest. Maybe it had been a good decision after all.

* * *

 **AN:** Chapter 7, aka the chapter of endless POV changes. This is the part of the movie where they have the montage, which again, works so much better in a movie than in a book. As such, a time skip of a week has taken place, and we get to see a little bit from each major character in the story! Yay!

Since this chapter is so short, I thought I'd respond to a question a reviewer sent in: yes, there will be Hiccstrid. However, like the movie, _it will not be developed in depth._ It will be hinted at, and that end-scene kiss will occur (don't worry, there will be the flight scene), but it won't be a key component. I decided not to mention the shipping in the summary because it's not a big part of the story.


	9. Chapter 8: Breaking Limitations

**Chapter 8: Breaking Limitations**

 _(Excerpt translated by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III)_

 _When I was young, brave, and unburdened and free, I would practice flying. I would climb to the top of the tallest trees in Raven Point, glide from one branch to another. Sometimes I'd attempt pulling out of a dive, other times, I'd try beating my wings so hard, I'd reach the highest branch solely through that. Once, I went on a solo-flight around the mountain range, taking in the amazing sights in total awe of the sheer_ beauty _that no one else could experience._

 _These flights ended once regular hunts occurred around the forests, searching for a baby Stormcutter one of the younger kids had seen (I believe it was a Hofferson, the family famed for having strong warriors and loyal women)._

 _In that short period of my life, those flights were easily the greatest thing I could've ever experienced. I was immensely saddened when I could no longer indulge in my guilty pleasure, in fear of death or injury, but perhaps, one day, I'll be able to do it once again._

* * *

When Hiccup was young, _very_ young, his father had taken him on a 'tour' of the island of Berk. He'd walked with him along the coast lines, in the areas that were relatively safe and didn't have dragons running amok. The ending highlight was taking Hiccup to the top of Thor's cliff, letting him look over the surrounding shores, the ships coming and going, all proudly displaying the Hairy Hooligan symbol.

Being atop that cliff was the highest Hiccup had ever been in his life. If he jumped off the edge, he'd die, plain and simple. The thought had terrified him, and he clung to his father's leg, nearly succumbing to tears when he felt a strong breeze blow his hair back. He thought that he'd never reach a height greater than that.

Then again, he'd never thought he'd be 'bound' to a Night Fury and soaring in the skies in the middle of the afternoon.

Gobber had announced to them, very early in the day, that boats had been spotted approaching Berk from a watch guard. As such, training was cancelled, and they were sent home after breakfast in the Great Hall.

Which meant he had time to grab the saddle, fix the safety ring, and get to Toothless. Which meant that right now, they were flying, high above the ocean, not tethered to anything but each other, trusting that one would not bring the death of the other.

They weren't going _too_ fast: Toothless understood that this was a test flight for more than simple gliding, and that Hiccup wasn't used to going any faster than a sprint. But that didn't mean that it wasn't terrifying, or that going slow eliminated the height between the air and the ground.

There were no words to describe how Hiccup felt in that very moment. Scared? Anxious? Slightly panicked? All paled in the face of this numb sense of determination, everything bubbled in the background, waiting to pop once he could properly process what was happening. He was hyper-focused, his more dragon-like, instinctive traits out in the open. Scales covered his entire body, but his hair was still atop his head, buffering in the wind. His eyes had also changed, his slit pupils focused and centered on the 'cheat sheet' he'd made and pinned to the saddle.

The cheat sheet, crude in design and made so that way he wouldn't screw up everything, was a small sheet of paper divided into six separate boxes. Each one had a different tailfin position that helped with different parts of flight. For example: position 5 helped slow Toothless down and ease them into landing.

 _"Are you_ sure _you want to do this?"_ Toothless crooned beneath them. _"I'm willing to wait if you're not ready, we could just teach you how to do—"_

"I'm fine!" Hiccup hurriedly replied, breathing deeply to calm himself. If he got panicky, then the whole flight would spiral out of control. "I'm fine. Let's just… take this slow, okay?"

 _"Slow, huh?"_ Toothless chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. _"I think I can manage slow."_

Hiccup breathed out, eyes locked on the cheat sheet, and refusing to look at the sky or sea. If he didn't look, he wouldn't panic. "Here we go. Here we go, position three—no, four."

Pressing the pedal down with his heel, a squeaking click informed him that the fin had gone into a flared, spread position. Toothless had twisted briefly, and assured him once they began to turn to the left. _"It's looking good so far!"_

He looked back, watching as the prosthetic flapped and waved in the wind, forcing Toothless to repeatedly twist to compensate for the out-of-sync movements. In his mind, he made small adjustments, ways for the fin to act more 'attached' and less at the whims of the wind, but he filed it away. Right now, he and Toothless had to focus on the skies, and make adjustments later. "Alright, it's go time. It's go time. Let's _go!"_

Toothless roared with delight as they fell into a dive, aiming for a collection of arching sea stacks. The tip of his wing sliced through the water, the spray hitting Hiccup and panicking him for a moment. "C'mon buddy, come on!"

 _"Relax, Hornless-head, I know what I'm doing_." He called as they passed under the arch, seagulls cawing above them, either oblivious to the dangerous predator or minding their own business. In a brief moment of panic, Hiccup wondered if the ships Gobber had mentioned could see them, so close to the surface.

The panic vanished as they continued under the arch and he could see the wide, vacant ocean surrounding them. Sighing with relief, Hiccup let the sense of factory wash over him. "Yes! Yes, it worked!"

And then he watched it get dashed as they collided with a sea stack. Jolted, Hiccup quickly said an apology. "Sorry—!" Another collision, this time accompanied by an irritated grumble from Toothless. "That was my fault!"

He slapped the Rider with his ear fin, flapping his wings a few times to regain a comfortable speed. _"Can we try to not break my legs? I'd like to be able to walk when we land again."_

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." He ran his finger over the cheat sheet once more, feeling anxiety build. "Position four—no, three."

 _"Get your numbers straight!"_ Toothless jested as they climbed into the sky, wings beating fiercely as they continued to ascend. It felt different from the first time in the cove: more controlled for both parties, and less disappointment to be found. As they climbed alongside the highest mountaintop in Berk, Toothless let his tongue flop in the wind, and Hiccup cheered, anxiety being replaced for adrenaline-fueled excitement as they passed the cloud line.

"Oh, this is amazing!" Hiccup yelled, feeling the clouds' moisture stick to his face—his scale-covered face that he was _comfortable_ with. "The wind in my—"

He nearly missed it, only when it slapped him in the face did he realize that the cheat sheet had fallen loose from his clip from all the turbulence. He screeched, a bit of a roar leaking into his voice. "Cheat sheet! _Stop!"_

Thankfully, he'd grabbed it, the leather a thick, comforting presence in his hand. He twisted his torso, ready to clip it back on to the slowing dragon and fall into a semi-controlled dive.

And then he realized, as he became completely airborne and not connected to Toothless at all, that the safety cord had fallen out of the ring.

Now was the time to panic.

They both screamed, Toothless falling faster than Hiccup and screeching, trying to pull himself into a slower descent but only managing to spiral rapidly. Without Hiccup, the tailfin was stuck in the position and wouldn't change, meaning he couldn't adjust accordingly. Hiccup cursed under his breath, swearing against every God and Goddess he could summon to the forefront of his mind as he tried to calm Toothless. "Alright, okay, you just gotta, kinda angle yourself towards—towards me, come back down towards—"

His tail slapped Hiccup in the face, a sharp piece of metal cutting into his cheek and grounding him slightly as they both continued to spin. _"I'm trying! You have to get to the saddle, or we're both going to die!"_

Grunting, Hiccup tried to dive towards Toothless, only to discover that he was still falling a bit behind. Desperation and fear clouded his thoughts, and he barely noticed the sound of fabric ripping as he shoved his cheat sheet into his mouth and reached with both his hands, wishing he could pull closer.

The muscles on his back convulsed, and he did. Propelled forward, it was just enough for him to wrap his clawed fingers around the saddle and pull himself into a seated position, feet sliding into the straps as changed the tailfin and pulled. Toothless straightened and flared his wings, the dive changing into a desperate attempt to slow down and land as they skimmed the tree tops.

 _"Hiccup, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there's more coming up!"_ Toothless screamed, and he looked up to see an approaching collection of sea stacks, all pressed together like a twisted obstacle course from Hel. He ripped the cheat sheet out of his mouth, looking down at it only to be unable to read it due to the buffing winds.

 _Forget it._ He threw it over his shoulder and pressed his chest against the saddle, allowing instincts to guide him as he and Toothless flew in tandem, twisting and maneuvering with grace through the sea stacks. The squeaks of the prosthetic tailfin were drowned out by his pounding heart and the whistling gales, his mind silenced as they spun and made shallow but effective turns. Everything else was flushed from his mind as it focused entirely on the task in front of him.

It felt like an hour, but when they left the stacks, it had only been a minute at most. They both looked at the horizon, awed and stunned, only to both scream their own victory cries. Hiccup threw his hands up in the air, flailing slightly as he was nearly pulled off the saddle. He looked over his shoulder, and was meat with a pair of wings identical to Toothless', along with a long, black tail coming out of his back. His shirt was ripped, but thankfully the harness had remained intact, keeping him attached to Toothless.

His friend beneath him was oblivious to the new development as he shot a plasma blast directly in front of them. A pulse of purple energy spread out from the epicenter, Toothless heading headfirst into the gigantic fireball with no signs of slowing or stopping.

"Aw, come on."

* * *

Toothless gagged three times, a fish head falling from his lips as he crooned at the still stunned Hiccup. He'd yet to bring his wings and tail back in, mainly because his clothes were torn irrepairably. However, he'd brought in his scales covering his body, and his pupils were now circular. In his hand was a fish he'd caught on his own and cooked with Toothless' plasma blast, and he politely declined his friend's offer. "No thanks, bud. I'm good."

 _"Suit yourself."_ Toothless managed a shrug, looking out at the coast. The island wasn't too far away from Berk, but it was far enough that no travelling merchant ships would be able to spot them. It was primarily made of stone, with little plant life along the coastline. _"We found a good spot to watch the sunset."_

"Yeah. Bet it doesn't look this good from the cove." Hiccup joked, grimacing as he took a bite of the unseasoned and rare fish. It'd been cooked, but only enough to make the meat a bit tougher and to burn away any diseases, enough for Hiccup to live if he ate, but certainly not enough to make it taste good.

 _"Food!"_ The duo looked up, Toothless letting out a low growl, as a small flock of Terrible Terrors clumsily swooped towards them. _"Dark Shot food! Friendly? Food food food! Hungry eat dinner food!"_

Toothless' growl rose in volume as they landed and practically slithered across the ground, inching closer to his pile of fish. A red-scaled one darted forward, snatching the regurgitated head and dragging it away. Before he could snap at it, his attention was grabbed by one of the fish standing straight up, bobbing away from the pile. His growl took on an irritated note as he snagged the head, exposing the green Terrible Terror as they engaged in a small game of tug of war.

With a snap, the Terror fell back as the fish was ripped from its mouth and swallowed whole by Toothless. He let out a series of quick huffs, almost chuckle-like in quality, as he taunted the yellow-scaled dragon. _"You want it? Come and get it."_

Huffing and pushing out its chest, the Terror rose on its hindlegs, chittering and scratching its claws against the ground. As it opened its mouth, Toothless shot a small plasma blast, the gas that had built up in its throat creating a miniature explosion and expanding the Terror's stomach almost comically. Thankfully, it hadn't actually exploded in front of Hiccup, and it walked away. It was dazed, almost drunken with its stumbling, criss-crossing steps, but otherwise unharmed.

One of the Terrors, one with light blue scales, gasped as it noticed the wings and tails protruding from Hiccup's back. _"Dark Shot Rider! Dark Shot Rider!"_

The remaining Terrors snapped away from the food, crowding Hiccup with awe clear in their eyes. A flurry of questions streamed forth, the small dragons not noticing Hiccup's wings pull close to his body and his tail wrap around his legs. _"How long was it? Did you plan it? How long did you know Dark Shot? Did it hurt a lot? Are you here to end the war?"_

 _"ENOUGH!"_ Toothless roared, startling not only the Terrors, but Hiccup. _"LEAVE!"_

The Terrors practically climbed over each other to get away from the duo, panicked chirps and growls leaving the flock's mouths as they jumped into the air. Their wings blurred in the dying sunlight, a testament to how fast they were going to get away. The enraged Night Fury slapped his tail against the ground, the chimes of metal and leather adding to the effect as he huffed and went back to slurping up his dinner. _"Idiotic dragons. They can be the most insensitive, blunt, careless creatures on the archipelago sometimes."_

Careful to not disturb his friend and give him a minute to calm down, Hiccup spread his wings and uncurled his tail, watching as the fins spread and then snapped together. He nibbled at his fish, his earlier hunger having left in a rush. An awkward silence hung between them, only broken by Hiccup's tiny voice. "Toothless?"

 _"Yeah?"_

"Could you… tell me what you did? Specifically?"

He tensed up, only to let out a sigh and protectively curl his tail around the smaller boy. _"You're sure you want to know?"_

"Wouldn't be asking if I wasn't."

 _"Yeah, you have a point."_ Toothless chuckled, slurping up the last fish before breathing deeply. _"What I did to you was what we dragons call a Soulbond. I give a part of my soul to you, and you give a part of your soul to me. The dragon half of this duo is known as a Skifte, and you are known as a Rider."_

"So that's why all of the dragons have been calling me that…"

 _"It's not too hard to tell a human apart from a Rider."_ He joked before continuing. _"You already know what happens to a Rider, but a Dragon can change into a human. Riders and Skiftes were considered the great mediators between humans and dragons, settling conflicts and negotiating peace across the Archipelago. There were whispers that they were directly descendants from the Goddess, and they were always present and willing to listen. No village or nest was complete without one."_

"What happened?"

 _"The War."_ Toothless growled. _"Too many differences, not enough similarities. Controlling Betas and Alphas being used by humans to gain power. Dragons drove out Soulbonds and made them taboo, afraid that the Rider would side with humans and give away the locations of their nest. Humans killed Skiftes and Riders in fear that they'd kill them all in their sleep and give away their weak locations to Dragons. They faded into myths, forgotten by Humans and only whispered amongst dragons."_

"So then why do it to _me?"_ Hiccup worried his bottom lip as he felt scales appear on his hands. "Why do this with me, if it's such a taboo, if you _hated_ me after I shot you down?"

Toothless looked away, something like a sigh leaving his throat. _"I… I was angry. Furious, even. A human had brought down a mighty Dark Shot in one blow, then had the audacity to show him mercy and release him? I didn't know much about Soulbonds, but I knew the basis of what would happen. If you weren't killed by your village, then you'd be cast out without a home and abandoned. You'd lose everything in your life that had meaning, and become an outcast._

 _"And then… and then I discovered I my tailfin had been damaged, that I was grounded. I was now a Skifte, but I couldn't regenerate limbs. I felt depressed, but I'd accepted it. I was going to starve in the cove, never to see the nest again, never to feel myself soar through the skies. If I did grieve, it's because I knew what would happen to you."_

Toothless stopped, and Hiccup swallowed nervously, wringing his fingers together. "What… what would have happened to me?"

He hesitated again, and Hiccup could feel him tense beneath him. _"If one half of the Soulbond dies, then the other will grieve and be in immense pain. You'd experience your soul literally ripping itself to shreds, and be almost immobilized by grief at points. Because you wouldn't know what was happening…"_

Toothless didn't need to finish the sentence. If he hadn't been labeled as insane, then he would've died in Dragon training. The silence hung heavy between them, only broken by the lapping waves at the shoreline in front of them and the far-off chatter of the Terrors.

 _"Well."_ Toothless abruptly stood, and Hiccup fell back, unbalanced due to his new wings. _"I think that's enough uncomfortable heart to heart for one evening. Frankly, I'm exhausted, and I'm not in a mood to teach you how to blast a fireball or properly fly. I think we'd both rather just… head back."_

Hiccup sighed and pressed his lips together, wincing as he heard cracks and pops as his wings and tail pulled back into his body. His pants and shirt were, unfortunately, ripped, but his vest had come out mostly unscathed. Uncomfortably stretched, maybe a bit scorched, but still in one piece.

"Yeah." He stood and mounted Toothless' saddle, throwing away his half-eaten fish. "I'd like that."

* * *

Hiccup flicked his pencil away, watching with vacant disinterest as it rolled back down to his waiting hand. His workshop was lacking a flame, or banging metal, and Gobber was missing, off in the Great Hall probably. The walls and his desk were covered in sketches of Toothless, or his prosthetic fin. The only light in the room were the various candles he'd lit upon entering.

He… didn't know how to feel after this afternoon. On the bright side, the saddle, as well as the tailfin positions, worked perfectly, even in high-stress situations. Sure, he'd want to improve the speed in which the positions changed, but that'd be something he could do later when he had free time.

On the other hand, however, Toothless had told him that he was intending to kill him and make him a freak even in his own village. He could understand why, it wasn't hard for him to understand that. In any other situation, Hiccup had run away and refused to have ever talked to Toothless again, but…

Toothless had obviously felt guilty about it, reluctant to talk about what his original intentions were and wanted to avoid it as much as possible. Besides that, Hiccup couldn't ignore the fact that that had happened more than a month ago, and their relationship had changed since Toothless had been shot down. They'd both bonded, and they'd both matured. Hiccup was allowed into a world no Viking had ever seen before, and if he was being honest, he _liked it._ He felt more accepted with Toothless up in the air, seeing his scales, feeling his wings and tail twitch behind him, than with the other humans.

It was somewhat of an eye-opener to realize he felt more comfortable with his would-be killer turned best friend than the people he'd grown up with.

To his left, some of the candlelight dimmed, and he turned with a disinterested stare. The candles in his room were at varying states of burning out, and it wasn't completely unlikely that a few had burned out. His brain stopped when he saw his father standing there, his frame lit ominously by the remaining light in the room.

"Dad!" Hiccup jolted, hands scrabbling over his desk and hiding as much of his work as he possibly could and prayed to the Gods that he ignored the large drawing of Toothless' prosthetic. "You're back! Gobber's not _here_ right now, probably out in the Great Hall, so…"

"I know." Stoick's deep voice seemed to reverberate throughout the small room, rumbling like thunder, even as he stepped down slightly, caging Hiccup in. "I came looking for you."

Hiccup felt his throat close, heart dropping into his stomach. Despite this, he pushed back the urge for his scales to pop out onto the surface of his skin, and tried to meet his father's steely gaze. "You did?"

"You've been keepin' _secrets."_

"I… I have?"

"Just how long did you think you could hide it from me?"

"I don't know what you're—"

 _"Nothing_ happens on this island without me hearing about it."

Hiccup could feel his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, a cold sweat starting to run down his neck. His eyes darted around the room, already cursing that he never made a second exit door in case of a fire in the main forge. "Oh?"

"So." Ignoring his son's clear panic, Stoick lowered himself down further. "Let's talk about that dragon."

Hiccup felt the blood drain from his face, and he fell back, barely catching himself on his table and avoiding landing in the stack of buckets behind him. "Gods." He whispered, trying to gauge Stoick's expression, half expecting his axe to swing out from behind him and chop Hiccup's head off. "Dad, I'm _so sorry._ I was going to tell you, I just didn't know how to—"

Hiccup cut himself off as he saw a deranged smile break across his father's face. The smile grew into chuckling, which grew into full-body laughter, the chief having to hold his stomach as his laughter boomed. He joined in, reluctantly, and then carefully stuck his toe into the waters. "You're not… upset?"

"What?" His father cried out, his smile still there, and Hiccup took a step back at the crazed expression. "I was _hoping_ for this!"

"You…" He watched in somewhat stunneded horror, wondering if the last trip to find the nest had led to him losing his mind. "You were?"

"And _believe_ me, it only gets better!" Lost in his own world, Stoick looked around at the range of machinery and scrap parts scattered around the room, completely missing the prosthetic sketch. "Just wait 'til you spill a Nadder's guts for the first time, and mouth your first Gronckle head on a spear. What a _feeling!"_

He smacked Hiccup on the shoulder, sending him into the buckets. As he struggled to push himself out of the bucket, the reality of the situation dawned on him. His father was happy that he was in the top two for dragon training, and _hadn't_ discovered Toothless. No one had discovered Toothless, or about the bond, or anything.

If anything, that made his heart's current residence in his stomach solidify as his father's exuberance skyrocketed. "You _really_ had me going there, son. All those years of the _worst Viking_ Berk has _ever_ seen! Odin, it was rough, I almost gave up on you, and all the while, you were holding out on me. Thor almighty!

He grabbed an extra seat, one that could probably hold his weight, and pulled it up so he was sitting directly across from Hiccup. "Ah, with you doing so well in the ring, we _finally_ have something to talk about."

Hiccup adverted his gaze, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands, and an awkward silence descended in the room. Whatever hopes he had that his father would care about his interests were crushed, now. Stoick would only care about him if he was a bloodthirsty dragon-killer, something that would never happen, not now. He had interests that he did well in, drawing he doubted any Viking would care about, and yes sometimes his inventions went awry, but he had a promising career as the village blacksmith. Gobber must've said something good about him at one point or another, something to qualify him for tending to the forge instead of fighting.

...How long had it been since Stoick had called him his son?

"Oh, I brought you something." Stoick spoke up, grabbing something from underneath his arm. In his hands was a small, horned helmet, just large enough to fit comfortably on Hiccup's head. "To keep you safe in the ring."

"Wow," He accepted it, turning it over in his hands and then placing it upon his head. It felt… odd, but he attributed it to the fact that he just wasn't used to feeling a helmet on his head. Typically, helmets for them were worn as a gift, something that families would give to their kids once they grew up and knew the path they were about to take.

Clearly, Stoick expected him to become one of the best dragon killers on the island.

He didn't know how to deal with that.

"Yer mother would've wanted you to have it. It's half of her breast plate. Matching set. Keeps her close, y'know?" Hiccup froze and looked up to see Stoick tap the side of his own helmet, whatever sentimental value he'd accepted was flushed away in a rush of embarrassment. "Wear it proudly, you deserve it. You've held up your end of the deal."

And that was something else he didn't want to think about. Squirming, Hiccup leaned back and covered his mouth with his hand, faking a yawn. "I should _really_ get to bed."

They both started to talk over each other, trying to cover up the past few embarrassing minutes, somehow both ending on the word 'hat'. Both blushed, and Stoick choked out a reluctant and somewhat embarrassed, "Good night."

Once Stoick left, Hiccup sighed and took off the hat, looking over it and turning it around in his hands. The horns were strong and sturdy, fashioned with care, and the metal had been recently polished. He could imagine his mother looking down on him from Valhalla, feel every eye in the village, all their hopes and expectations physically weigh down on his back.

He wanted nothing more than to vomit, throw the hat away in disgust, and dive into the ocean to never resurface again.

Why was it that when he did anything 'good', it only made his life worse?

* * *

 **AN:** AAAAAAAHHHH I'M SO SORRY.

I could spout out endless excuses, but surprisingly, none of them have been writer's block (or, well, maybe?). First of all, I hate writing expositional moments-it's actually why I left out the opening scene from the movie-and that entire scene with Hiccup and Toothless talking is AU exposition which _sucked_ to write. Another thing is my school has no breaks for six weeks as it's 'AP Season', meaning it's the main time where all the advanced placement classes cram. This isn't even mentioning college tours, ACT and SAT prep, as well as dealing with stress from prom.

And on top of all of that, Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild came out, and I've been waiting for this game for nearly three years now and I got so sidetracked from that (and I haven't even killed my first Divine Beast because I'm still grinding for towers and shrines in that game god it's so good, _it's so good)._

This all amounted to me either forgetting about this fanfic or writing snippets in a journal or looseleaf paper and getting barely any progress done. I pushed to finish this one and actually cut out the next scene in order to get it out on time for the seven-year anniversary of the first film.

Still, this one is pretty long, and it provides a fair amount of answers to some questions the AU brought about! I hope everyone enjoyed reading and, I will admit, I cannot guarantee an update next Sunday, but I will push to get it done. I'm ready to come back to this!


End file.
